Billie Maddox - The Rolex Killer
by Avoncliffe
Summary: Dempsey and Harry are engaged to be married, a natural progression since they are deeply in love. Billie Maddox is a mentally broken psychopath, her childhood obliterated by a serial paedophile. As she takes her revenge on men, so the body count increases. Dempsey and Harry have to find her and stop her
1. Chapter 1

**Billie Maddox The Rolex Killer **

**Prologue**

**August 1968.**

Billie Maddox was eight years old and always frightened to go to sleep, the nightmares starting, it seemed, the second she closed her eyes.

Images of his face next to hers, the rancid breath a stinking mix of beer, cigarettes and garlic, lips drawn back and exposing yellowed teeth, some broken, some even missing, were all so vivid she'd wake up weeping, trembling and terrified in the pitch black of her bedroom.

Then the door would open and the rest of the nightmare would become a reality as he'd slide into bed beside her, his hands removing her pyjamas, his fingers working on her, his tongue licking her naked skin.

And the illuminated hands of his black faced, solid gold Rolex GMT Master would read two-thirty every time.

Her brutalisation started when she was six, not long after her beloved father had walked out one night, never to return and replaced by this monster her mother seemed to so adore.

His watch was worth thousands, a reward for a jewelry heist he'd been part of and he was always waving it in her face, boasting that only the very rich would be wearing similar ones.

The abuse was ignored by her mother, often a beating would follow as she screamed at her daughter, accusing her of being a filthy little liar when she tried, repeatedly, to describe what was happening to her in the dead of night.

Then, not long after she'd turned fourteen and puberty had kicked in, did her resolve harden, her mind now so utterly broken by the physical and mental damage, together with her mother's denial.

That is when she became a killer.

That is when she took a kitchen knife to the creature she hated with a passion.

That is when she slipped off his gold Rolex, wrapped it tightly in a plastic bag and buried it in the top corner of the garden, noting, by using the width of her hands as a ruler, exactly where the spot was.

And that is when she was convicted for his murder and sent down for fifteen years, first to a juvenile detention centre, then a harsh womens prison which did little or nothing to rehabilitate her whilst she served out her sentence.

But somehow, she instinctively knew she had to keep out of trouble and was released after thirteen years for good behaviour.

The years of incarceration, however, had only fuelled her obsession to take revenge out on men for a childhood obliterated by an insatiable desire for power and control taken in the form of painful sex by a serial paedophile.

The first thing she did, coincidentally at two-thirty in the morning, was visit her old home and dig up the Rolex, which she pawned, realising five thousands pounds in cash.

Through the Conservative Government's Social Fund she was awarded a Budgeting Loan to meet her intermittent needs and a Community Care Grant to assist her in living independently.

She rented a bedsit in Camden Town and was now set to seek out her victims.


	2. Chapter 2

**Billie Maddox The Rolex killer**

**One.**

When Lieutenant James Dempsey and Sergeant Harriet (Harry) Makepeace walked out of the court, having seen their ex SI-10 colleague, Steve Williams, convicted of aiding and abetting Jimmy Hofton, a vicious vice baron involved in child trafficking and whom the two of them had brought to book, Dempsey had remarked that maybe their lives would be a lot easier if they were simply Mr and Mrs Smith, of eleven Acacia Avenue, with two point four children, a mortgage, a dog, a cat and a bunch of bills to pay every month.

Harry, with a gleam in her sparkling blue eyes, had asked if that was a proposal of marriage.

Dempsey had looked at her and didn't even have to think about it. He knew.

"I guess it was Harry." he'd said, softly.

"Then the answer's yes." she'd said.

Neither of them would ever forget the surge of joy, emotion and love that engulfed them, as Dempsey lifted her off her feet and swung her round, her arms around his neck as she shrieked with delight, before smothering his lips with hers.

Dempsey had only experienced one serious relationship in his life. Simone. They'd known each other since their teens and had lived together for a while, Dempsey even believing he might be in love with her.

But when he'd had to flee New York, they'd lost contact. Simone did come to London, having tracked him down through his mother, but she soon saw the love between him and Harry, even though they hadn't acknowledged it to each other yet, and she returned to New York broken hearted.

Now, as they drove up to Winfield Hall to stay with Harry's father, Lord (Freddy) Winfield and tell him their news, Dempsey was the most nervous he'd ever been in his life.

Although he knew that Freddy would give them his complete blessing, the thought of asking him for Harry's hand in marriage still daunted him.

And Harry didn't know that, hidden in Dempsey's pocket, there was a 2.2mm wide platinum engagement ring, set with a round brilliant diamond solitaire, embraced by a sparkling micropave halo setting and which he'd bought from De Beers on Old Bond Street with most of the proceeds from the recent sale of his New York apartment.

Not long ago, whilst Harry was glancing through a copy of 'Vogue', she'd pointed to a picture of it, remarking, "If I was ever to design my own engagement ring, that's exactly what it would look like. Isn't it fabulous!"

Dempsey had filed it away in his memory bank.

As they swept through the archway and motored up the drive to the Hall, Harry couldn't resist her usual habit of reaching across and blasting the horn when the house came into view.

Having been alerted by this, Freddy was waiting for them, a welcoming grin on his handsome tanned face, his blue eyes wide with delight.

"Hello Daddy!" shouted Harry, leaping out of the car almost before it stopped and hugging her father, Dempsey smiling and holding out his hand, warmly shaken by his future father-in-law.

"Harry darling and James my boy." said Freddy. "How are you both? This is a sudden unexpected joy to have you both here at such short notice. Why the visit?"

Harry mentally bit her lip, bursting to blurt out the reason, but respecting Dempsey's desire to follow tradition.

"It's Friday evening, the weather is glorious, we've wrapped up the Hofton case and thought, what better way to spend a weekend with our favourite person." explained Harry, Freddy cute enough to suspect there was more to it than that, since he'd rarely seen his daughter looking so incredibly happy.

"Well I say." he said. "I'm flattered and delighted, of course. Come through, I've some Chardonnay on ice."

They followed him onto the terrace, where Abbott, Freddy's butler, was poised, ready to pour out their drinks.

"Hello Abbott." greeted Harry. "How are you?"

"I'm well thank you Miss Harriet." he replied, smiling politely at them both. "And Mr Dempsey, it's nice to see you again."

"Thanks Abbott." replied Dempsey. "Good to see you too. I'd like a beer if possible."

"Of course sir. A Budweiser, perhaps?"

"Perfect, thanks."

While Abbott disappeared to fetch the beer, Harry winked at Dempsey and announced that she needed the bathroom after their journey, thus leaving him alone with Freddy.

Dempsey took the hint and steeled himself.

"Sir, er Freddy." he said, momentarily unable to speak when Freddy looked up at him from pouring Harry's drink.

"Yes James." he said, a curious expression forming on his face when he noticed Dempsey's rare and apparent shyness.

"I er, I love Harry more than life itself, sir, and I'd like your permission for her hand in marriage."

Now it was Freddy's turn to be speechless. He stared at Dempsey, before a huge grin lit up his features as he reached out and grabbed his hand, shaking it warmly.

"Of course you may marry her, James." he said. "Nothing on this earth would make me happier. Congratulations!"

"Wow! Thank you sir." he said, relieved and elated, as Harry re-appeared, looking expectantly from one to the other.

Dempsey walked up to her and knelt down on one knee, looking up into her glistening blue eyes and, whilst pulling a small, exquisitely wrapped box in black velvet, from his pocket, said.

"I love you with all my heart, Harry. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

He opened the box, the stunning diamond ring dazzling her.

"Oh my God! My ring! Yes! Yes! Yes!" she sobbed, tears flooding her eyes and running down her cheeks in torrents.

Dempsey took the ring from its box and slipped it over her finger, his eyes glistening too, as the emotion took hold. She spread her hand as wide as it could go, staring with disbelief at it, then threw her arms around him when he stood up, never wanting to let him go.

Freddy came over to them both then, playfully prizing Harry out of Dempsey's arms and hugging her tightly, the joy on his face unconditional.

"Congratulations Harry darling." he said, his voice breaking too. "Abbott, please bring a couple of bottles of Bollinger out, would you."

"Certainly your Lordship." he replied. "And may I congratulate you Miss Harriet, Mr Dempsey."

"Thank you Abbott." they both acknowledged in tandem, as he then made his way back into the house.

"Well you two, what took you so long!? chuckled Freddy. "I could see the chemistry between you two the first time you brought James up here Harry. As your Aunt Alice said only recently, you're a match made in heaven."

"Aunt Alice!" exclaimed Harry. "She'll have to be the first to know, Daddy. She'll never forgive you, or us, if she hears it from anyone else. You know what she's like!"

"I could always invite her up tomorrow, you know." offered Freddy, as Abbott returned with two bottles of 1975 Bollinger champagne, a vintage year.

"Yes why not. What you do think, darling?" asked Harry, glancing at Dempsey then staring at her ring for the millionth time.

"Yeah, cool." he replied. "She's great company. And don't forget, it was only a few weeks ago she was busy introducin' me to all your family and friends as your fiance!"

"Really? You didn't say." said Harry, smacking his hand in feigned annoyance, then giggling. "She's more wily than I give her credit for!"

"I'll go and call her now." said Freddy and disappeared into the house.

"James!" whispered Harry, holding her hand up, so the sunlight could catch the diamond. "When did you buy this!? And, well sorry to ask darling, but how on earth could you afford it? It must have cost an absolute fortune!"

"Harry, don't ask questions." he replied, taking her ring hand and kissing it.

"I know, I'm sorry, It's rude of me to ask." she said, blushing. "I'm just so overwhelmed."

"Good. That's the whole point!" he said, grinning at her.

She got up from her chair, then sat down again on his knee, her arm round his neck and whispered into his ear. "Do you know what I'd like to do to you right now!"

"I'd like to guess." he chuckled.

She whispered again, his eyes closing with her words and relieved she was sitting on his knee, because there was absolutely no way in this world he'd be able to stand up!

Freddy returned at that moment.

"She is beside herself with joy." he said, working the champagne cork out of the bottle, then pouring it into flutes held at a forty-five degree angle, before gradually straightening them, the glass now full with a head of white bubbles. "And driving up right now. She'll be here in an hour or so I would guess."

"Oh bless her." said Harry. "I'm hardly surprised actually, she's bound to be in a hurry!"

She was right.

They heard the car roaring up the driveway and went to meet her as she swept up to the house in her vintage 1960, bright red Jaguar XK150 roadster, hood down, wearing a 1940's flying helmet and goggles.

Harry and Dempsey were weak with laughter at the sight of her, not helped by Freddy's reaction.

"Alice my dear." he said, as she skidded to a halt on the gravel. "You're not piloting a Spitfire you know! Why the flying gear?"

"Hello love birds!" she squealed. "Oh, it keeps the flies out, Freddy darling!"

"But you've got a windscreen for that!" replied Freddy, equally amused as the other two.

"The little devils get everywhere, darling!" she replied. "And the hat keeps my hair perfectly in place!"

"Oh my God, Aunt Alice!" said Harry, tears of laughter still streaming down her face. "You're absolutely priceless!"

Abbott lifted several bags from various different places in the car and carried them into the house.

"Good lord Alice." remarked Freddy, as he watched Abbott almost disappear under her luggage. "You're only here for a night or two but you look as though you intend to stay for a month, judging by those bags!"

"Oh Freddy dear, I've no idea what you may have planned, so I've allowed for all occasions." chastised Alice, then slipping her arm through Dempsey's, she continued. "Now, I'd like a drink and a chitty chat with these two beautiful people."

Dempsey escorted her through to the terrace, Harry following with her arm linked through Freddy's, still giggling at her lovably eccentric aunt.

Dusk was giving way to night, but the air was still warm and the area took on a magical feel as its courtesy lamps threw a soft glow over the terrace, the garden lights giving new life to the trees, shrubs, bushes and manicured hedges.

The four of them took their seats at a circular garden table, Abbott pouring out flutes of champagne and handing one to each of them.

"Cheers my darlings." toasted Alice, raising her glass to them both and taking a worthy swig of Bollinger. "May you be happy, healthy, wealthy and wise."

"The first one's definitely true." replied Harry. "The second one seems to be about right, I don't think the third will present a problem but the last one might be a bit of a challenge!"

"My goodnes Harriet, darling." said Alice. "You _are_ in high spirits. How divine. Now James, when did you propose? You must tell me."

Dempsey obliged her, Alice clapping her hands in glee at his explanation.

"Enchanting!" she gushed. "So romantic. And when's the big day?"

"We haven't set a date yet, Aunt Alice." replied Harry. "But after Daddy, you will be the first to know. Promise."

"Wonderful." said Alice. "I'll shall buy a new hat and an outfit to match!"

In Camden Town, Billie Maddox was sitting outside 'The Black Cap', drinking half a pint of lager and smoking a cigarette, when a man in his mid forties, alone and with a pint of bitter in his hand, leaned across from the next table.

"Got a light, luv?" he asked, taking a cigarette out of a pack of Rothmans, drawn from the pocket of his jeans, and putting it between his teeth. She picked up her throw-away lighter and handed it to him, watching as he flicked the flame on and sucked, inhaling the smoke, then blowing it out through his mouth and nose.

"You live round 'ere?" he asked, his eyes straying to her stockinged thighs, then moving up her body to the swell of her partially exposed breasts.

"Yes mate." replied Billie, his gaze not lost on her. "You?"

"Nah, I'm from Finchley." he replied, panting slightly as he dragged on his Rothmans. "Came 'ere to meet an old pal, but he 'ain't shown up. He's an hour late so I s'pose he ain't comin' now."

"Oh." she shrugged, downing the rest of her lager and stubbing out her cigarette.

"Like another?" he said, pointing to her empty glass.

"Yeah, why not." she replied and watched as he reached across and picked it up, his sleeve sliding up his arm, a gold Rolex glinting on his wrist. She felt her pulse quicken, memories re-awakening, an old familar dread forming in the pit of her stomach as she glared at it.

By the time he'd stood up to go inside, she knew she hated him and by the time he'd returned with her lager, she knew she was going to kill him.

"You married?" she asked, brushing one side of her jet black hair behind her ear, as he sat down again, this time at her table.

"Divorced." he replied, aware this could be the start of a come-on. "You?"

"No." Billie replied, taking a mouthful of lager and lighting another cigarette. "Any kids?"

"One daughter, eight she is and as cute as they come." he smiled, dragging on his Rothmans. "Lives with 'er mother. I get to see 'er every other weekend."

She silently swallowed the bile rising in her throat, the knife resting against her hip in its scabbard, fuelling her resolve.

"Not got a girlfriend then, nice looking bloke like you." she said, smiling and leaning forward slightly so he could see her cleavage, then taking a drag and blowing out some smoke.

'I'm in 'ere' he thought.

"No, not right now." he replied, downing a quarter of his pint of bitter in one gulp and putting his Rothmans out. "Not met anyone really. You?"

"No, free and single, me." she replied, her emerald green eyes looking directly into his. "What's your name then?"

"Dave, what's yours."

"Billie. Billie Maddox, that's me name, Dave." she answered, finishing her drink. "Fancy a coffee at mine?"

He couldn't believe his luck.

"Yeah, love one Billie." he replied, knocking back his pint in two swigs. "You far from 'ere?"

"Not too far." she said. "Shall we go, then."

They stood up, Dave noticing her shapely figure and beginning to imagine what the next few hours might bring. He put an arm round her as they began to walk away from the throng of drinkers, nobody taking any notice of them apart from a small group of young lads eyeing her backside, envious of Dave as she swayed into him.

They reached an alleyway, unlit and very dark, the only light coming from the yellow street lamps on the main road.

Billie steered him into it, then stopped and leaned up against the wall.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I've only just met you." she said. "You're not dangerous, are you?"

"Who me?" he replied, openly surprised. "Course not, come 'ere. I'll show yer how dangerous I am."

He began to kiss her, Billie responding in kind, her anger mounting as his hand slid to her thigh, then up to her breast.

Reaching to her hip, she silently drew the knife from its sheath and in one quick movement brought her hand up, stabbing it into his throat, three times.

She stood back, grinning at him as he looked back at her in bewilderment and shock, slowly sliding down the wall, his life ebbing away as the blood poured out of his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Billie Maddox The Rolex killer**

**Two.**

After Dave had finally drawn his last breath, Billie pulled on a pair of bright yellow, plastic disposable oven gloves, slid up his sleeve, unbuckled the gold Rolex from his wrist and pocketed it.

Kneeling in front of him, she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his knees, along with his underpants, taking the knife once again to his body, this time castrating him, then tossing his testicles away.

Her final act was to take a small felt pen from a pocket in her skirt and, in indelible ink, draw a large circle on Dave's forehead. Then she added the figure 12 to what would be 'N' on a compass, 3 at 'E', 6 at 'S' and 9 at 'W', so it now resembled a watch. She completed her handiwork with an 'R' in the middle.

When she arrived back in her bedsit, she washed the blood from the gloves, then put them in her waste bin.

The next morning, deliberately avoiding the first pawn shop she'd done business with, she caught a bus to neighbouring Islington and walked into the first one she came across, realising four and half thousand pounds in cash for Dave's watch.

Both transactions to date would have been improved if she'd had the accompanying boxes, certficates, receipts and guarantees, but nine and a half thousand pounds wasn't to be sniffed at.

At Winfield Hall, Dempsey and Harry were feeling, and looking, decidedly jaded when they walked into the dining room for breakfast, Dempsey opting for eggs and bacon, Harry an omlette, with the ever present pot of fresh coffee available on the sideboard.

The previous evening had been full of joy and laughter, the two of them eventually retiring to their room bursting with pent up passion, unleashing it on each other the instant the door was closed. Harry, in particular, came good on her whispered promises to Dempsey earlier in the evening, so insatiatable was she, they managed only an hours sleep.

"Are you going to tell Gordon Spikings of your engagement?" Freddy asked them both.

"We've discussed it briefly, Daddy, but so far the jury's out." replied Harry, still unable to take her eyes of her ring.

"Yeah, but we do need to decide, angel." Dempsey reminded her.

"Perhaps I may play devils advocate for a moment." offered Freddy. "Especially as Alice isn't down yet, so we can speak in confidence. You've handled two cases now haven't you, since you became a couple?"

"Yes." replied Harry. "Bobby Tortini and Jimmy Hofton."

"Yet your feelings for each other didn't affect the outcome, did they?" continued Freddy.

"Er no." said Dempsey. "But it made the danger more acute."

"Yes, I know it did, I could see that with my own eyes in Spain." replied Freddy. "And that's never going to change now. Nevertheless, the area that would have concentrated Spikings' mind if you'd come straight out with it at the beginning, would have been whether you'd still be effective in your work."

"True." agreed Harry. "And that's why we didn't, because we weren't sure ourselves."

"Understandable Harry." replied Freddy. "But since then, Spikings has been directly involved in both your last assignments and you've proved in each case that your feelings for one another hasn't affected your abilities."

"So are you suggesting we tell him?" asked Harry.

"On balance, yes I am." replied Freddy, nodding at them both.

"He don't like workin' relationships gettin' personal, Freddy." said Dempsey.

"James, he put you two together in the first place." replied Freddy. "He knew the sparks would fly, but he's no fool. I'll wager he's suspected you two are more than just work partners now."

Dempsey recalled the time when Spikings took him to a pub after Harry had resigned from SI-10, telling him that perhaps the reason for it, had a lot to do with her private feelings for him. He related the story to Harry and Freddy.

"You've never told me that, James." said Harry. "But Spikings was right. I knew I'd fallen in love with you and couldn't bear to see you hurt, let alone die."

"So what's changed darling?" asked Freddy.

"Nothing's changed Daddy." replied Harry. "But Joyce, an old colleague, said a very significant thing to me at the time. She said that James had more chance of staying alive if I was beside him and that put everything in perspective for me."

"So, doesn't that solve your dilemma?" asked Freddy, smiling at them both.

"It does and it doesn't." said Dempsey. "On the one hand I guess Spikings wouldn't be surprised at our gettin' it together, but think how the guys would've reacted if they'd known we were an item when we were spendin' time in a hotel while chasin' down that Tortini creep or recently snoopin' round Hofton's place in Spain for a few days."

"He's got a point, Daddy." said Harry.

"Oh I think you're worrying too much, James." replied Freddy. "Harry's my daughter, yes, but she's the image of her mother who was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I'll bet every man in that SI-10 office would love to be where you are. All it means, is you've got to deal with the green eyed monster - envy."

On the way back to Camden Town, Billie sat on the top deck of her bus and she was buzzing inside. Knifing Dave to death the night before had empowered her, sent a tingle down through her and it was something she'd have no compunction in experiencing again.

It was a different feeling to that of her first murder - that had been satisfying, a release from pain, humiliation and feeling dirty. Pure unadulterated revenge on her evil tormentor.

Under the surface, however, buried in her subconscious, the hate was still there. She didn't look at men and instantly wanted to kill them. And despite her childhood experience, she still had a desire for sex, just like any twenty-seven year old female.

But the hate and need to kill was simply triggered by the sight of a gold Rolex watch. If she saw one on a male wrist, it acted like a switch in her head, the memories of those terrifying nights would flood her mind, the anger would be almost impossible to control and the desire for revenge, re-awakened.

Gazing out of the window, she glanced at a billboard, advertising 'Tramp' nightclub, highlighting a promotion, the message being that Sunday's would be the one night in the week where membership was waived. Basically it was an open night.

'Why not' she thought. She could afford an expensive night out and she might meet a guy she could bed, if he was attractive enough.

Reaching her destination and disembarking, she headed for a fashion shop on Camden Town high street and, after browsing for thirty minutes, finally decided upon a black 'Jessica McClintock' sleeveless dress with a halter top, heavily beaded satin roses featuring along it and which stretched to the fitted waistline. The skirt was flared, with an open back and zipper along the hip.

In the same shop she purchased a pair of black, high heel, patent leather shoes too.

At Winfield Hall the telephone was ringing, Abbott answering it, then knocking on the dining room door and entering immediately.

"Excuse me your Lordship." he said. "A telephone call for Miss Harriet."

"Who is it, Abbott?" she asked.

"Chief Inspector Spikings, madam."

"Why do I feel our weekend is about to come to an abrupt halt!" she sighed. "Thank you Abbott, I'll be right there."

She left the room and picked up the telephone receiver.

"Hello sir?"

"Ah, Makepeace." came the familiar voice. "Sorry to disturb you but I need you and Wyatt Earp back here. Where is he, do you know?"

She hesitated and looked down at her engagement ring. 'Damn it!' she thought. "We're not going to live a lie anymore. And I'm not taking this off!'

"Presumably you mean Dempsey, sir." she said, deliberately obtuse. "Yes he's here with me."

"Is he?" replied Spikings. "Any reason?"

"Er, yes sir. Family celebration." she replied. "Anyway, what's happened?"

"Rather nasty murder, Sergeant." said Spikings. "The Met are snowed under and have asked if we could cover it."

"I see. Okay sir, we'll see you in the office?"

"Yes, soon as Makepeace." he ordered, then hung up, a smile on his face.

He wasn't a successful detective for nothing. 'Family celebration, eh?' he thought.

She walked back into the dining room, asking Abbott, on the way, to pack their bags and put them in the car.

"What'd he want, angel?"

"There's been a gruesome murder apparently." she replied. "And the Met have asked if SI-10 can handle it. He wanted to know where you were, so I told him."

"Then you've made your decision?" asked Freddy.

"Yes I have, but I've not said anything to Spikings other than you're here, darling, for a family celebration." said Harry, walking over to Dempsey and bending down to kiss his cheek.

"So you wanna tell him 'bout us?" asked Dempsey, slipping his arm round her waist as she stood next to him.

"I think we should be honest and come clean, yes." she replied, putting her arm round his shoulder, then looking coy. "Anyway, I don't want to take my beautiful ring off!"

"Ah, well that's as good a reason as any, Harry darling." said Freddy, beaming broadly. "I have to say it's breathtaking."

"Thank you Daddy." she said. "It is rather special isn't it. Look I think we'd better slip away now before Aunt Alice comes down. It might be a bit awkward to explain why we're having to leave. Sorry Daddy, but I'm going to have to hand that task to you."

"Don't worry." replied Freddy, grinning. "I'll just blame James!"

"Thanks!" replied Dempsey, grinning back at him.

"Okay, tell her I'll call her soon and give her our love." said Harry. "And Daddy, can we talk about having an engagement party here?

"Of course, Harry darling." replied Freddy, delighted, hugging her goodbye. "Call me when you're able to discuss it in more detail."

Dempsey shook his hand. "Thanks a bunch Freddy." he said, warmly. "I'll take good care of her, sir."

"Oh, of that I'm in no doubt!" replied Freddy, beaming broadly, already regarding Dempsey as more than just a future son-in-law, but rather the son he'd never had.

Having said their farewells, they motored back to London, walking into SI-10 just under two hours later, Chas and Jamie the only operatives on duty.

Spikings was waiting for them and asked them into his office, not noticing Harry's ring, seeing as she had put her hands in the pockets of her summer skirt. They'd decided on the drive back, to get the business of the day over and done with, before bringing up the developments in their personal relationship.

"What gives Chief?" asked Dempsey immediately, Spikings bristling at the brash New Yorker.

"What gives, Dempsey, is a dead, white male with three stab wounds to his neck who now resembles a eunuch, seeing as his testicles were removed and found in the back alley where he was murdered, twenty feet away from his body! replied Spikings. "He also has what appears to resemble a watch, drawn in indelible ink on his forehead. Here, take a look at the photographs." said Spikings handing them a clutch of pictures.

"What's that, an 'R'?" asked Harry and using her right hand, pointed to the letter written large in the centre of the watch face. "Could that be an initial?"

"It's the most likely explanation." agreed Spikings, beginning to notice that Harry's left hand had remained in her pocket ever since she'd walked into the office.

"Do we have the name of this guy, Chief?"

"Not yet, no." replied Spikings. "Chas is trawling through our fingerprint bank."

"Where is this alley, sir?" asked Harry.

"Camden Town High Street, Sergeant." replied Spikings. "I suggest the pubs along there should be your first port of call."

"So is our killer a fag or a woman?" mused Dempsey.

"Who knows? Could be either." replied Spikings. "I suggest you get over to Camden Town and start asking questions."

"Er Chief, before we do, we've got something to tell you." said Dempsey, intending to get straight to the point, Harry taking her right hand out of her pocket. "Harry and I are engaged to be married."

Spikings looked from one to the other, his mouth falling open, momentarily speechless. And then he did something that took them both by complete surprise.

He stood up, came round his desk and hugged Harry to him, then took Dempsey's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Congratulations to you both." he said, smiling broadly. "When I put you two together I knew it would go one of two ways. Either you'd end up trying to rip each others heads off, or you'd fall for each other. It looked a bit like the former initially but you gelled, and when you resigned Harry, that was when I knew your feelings for James were serious."

"Why didn't you say something to us, sir?" asked Harry.

"Relationships develop and then either blow themselves to smithereens or become permanent, Harry." replied Spikings. "Whilst that was being resolved, all I was concerned with was how you'd handle the job together. And it soon became clear that your work wasn't being compromised. Have you named a date?"

"No, not yet, Chief." answered Dempsey. "But you'll be amongst the first to know when we do. Thanks for understanding."

"Yes, thank you, sir." said Harry, then spread her hand for Spikings to see her stunning ring.

"Very impressive." he remarked, a wide grin on his face. "I've always said I must be paying you too much, Lieutenant!"

"We'll be arranging an engagement party soon, so I hope you and Mrs Spikings will come, along with the rest of the guys?" said Harry.

"We'd be delighted." replied Spikings. "As for the lads, I'm sure they'll all come but I expect there'll be a few jealous looks coming your way, Dempsey. Harry's got a few admirers amongst them."

"Yeah, I guess that's to be expected." replied Dempsey, not at all concerned. "Ok Chief, thanks again. We'll get on over to Camden an' see what we can dig up."

They walked back into the main office, gave Chas and Josh their news, who were both quite taken aback, since they'd seen little hint of it and then drove over to Camden Town, visiting the three pubs on the high street, 'The Constitution', 'The Camden Head' and 'The Black Cap'.

Managing to speak to all three landlords, none of them said they recognised Dave's picture, siting very busy nights and hordes of customers, but would be happy to pin the photo up in case any regulars came forward with information.

Having inspected the scene of the crime, found nothing to give them any insight into it and accepting that they'd have to wait for the results of the post mortem for any possible further clues, they finally arrived back at Harry's house, unpacked and went to sit in the garden with a drink each.

"What do you make of the big 'R' in the middle of that drawing, Dempsey?"

"I don't know what to make of it, princess." he replied. "Could mean anythin' right now. We'll just have to wait to see if anybody comes forward with info. One thing's for sure. The guy couldn't have been local, otherwise one of those pub guys would've recognised him."

Harry changed the subject.

"Freddy was right about Spikings, darling." she said, smiling at her fiance.

"Yeah, right on the button!" he replied, smiling back. "I always guessed Spikings might've suspected something."

"Yes, but I never thought he'd be _that_ understanding." replied Harry. "Still, thank goodness he's okay about it."

Rupert Barrington-Smythe was a slim, fit, good looking and very wealthy thirty-two year old. His home was a three bedroomed, luxury penthouse in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, he drove a brand new Lotus Esprit Turbo sports car and, as one of the Chelsea set, had the pick of well heeled and attractive young women.

He'd inherited his money from a trust fund set up by his multi-millionaire grandparent's who had died in a plane crash whilst enjoying a world wide holiday to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary two years previously.

Like several rich, single, thirtysomething men, he liked a bit of rough now and again and had heard about the Sunday open night at Tramp.

He intended to go, having enjoyed success in the past, picking up two sisters with no scruples and spending several memorable hours with them back in his flat.

When Sunday night came round and after he'd selected his evening wear, he slid open a drawer in his en-suite dressing room and surveyed the numerous watches lying side by side.

He decided upon a Breitling Montbrilliant, encased in stainless steel with an ivory face, the strap fashioned out of soft brown leather and fastened it to his wrist.

Satisfied with his image in a mirror, he slammed the penthouse door closed, descended the lift to the ground floor, strolled outside to the pavements edge and hailed a cab.

"Tramp, please cabbie." he ordered, when one had stopped to pick him up.

"Right you are, guv." came the reply and he sat back, gazing through the window and wondering what the night would bring.

He also knew Lady Harriet Makepeace, having dated her twice in the past and had remained friends with her.

He was likley to be invited to her engagement party when the time came.


	4. Chapter 4

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Three.**

At about the same time as Rupert left his penthouse, Billie Maddox walked out of her bedsit in Camden Town and also hailed a taxi.

"Tramp please mate." she said to the cabbie, sitting back in the seat, placing her black leather clutch bag in her lap and feeling for the knife at her hip, comforted by its presence.

"Yes luv." replied the cabbie.

And she too, gazed out of the window, wondering what the coming night would bring.

Billie's taxi arrived three minutes ahead of Ruperts, so he spotted her in the queue to get in and liked what he saw. Being a member, he'd be able to walk straight in, but he deliberately strolled close by her, noting her shapely figure, long black hair and emerald green eyes when she glanced up at him as he passed.

'Hmmm' he thought. 'a definite possibilty' and, showing his pass, entered the club, making straight for the bar and ordering a vodka and tonic, with ice and lemon.

Billie had liked what she saw too when he walked by her and she'd made up her mind to look for him once she was inside. Fifteen minutes later, she'd finally made the head of the queue and gained access to the club, seeing Rupert at the bar almost straight away.

She wandered up next to him, ordering a glass of white wine.

"May I get that for you?" he said, liking her more, now that he could see her up close.

"Yeah, thanks." she answered, looking into his blue/grey eyes and fancying him immediately.

"I'm Rupert, by the way." he said, smiling at her, then calling a barman over and ordering her drink..

"Billie." she replied, holding out her hand.

"Hello Billie. Unusual name for a girl." he said, taking her hand in his and shaking it gently, then passing her drink over when it arrived. "But nice, I Iike it. Shall we find somewhere to sit?"

"Sure." she replied, nodding and smiling at him.

They spent the entire evening in each others company, drinking, dancing and talking, Rupert not caring much for her cockney accent but, seeing as it was looking promising that the night would end back at his place and in his bed, he wasn't overtly bothered about how she spoke.

Billie excused herself at one point and went to the ladies powder room. Disappearing into a cubicle, she removed her knife and belt, placing them inside her clutch bag.

As the evening had progressed, she'd decided she was going to sleep with him.

Being a Sunday, the club's drinks licence expired at midnight, so when last orders were called, Rupert invited her to his place for a nightcap, which she willingly accepted.

She proved skilled and insatiable in bed, leaving him wanting more when she finally left for her bedsit at five in the morning. He asked for her telephone number but seeing as she neither had one nor wanted him to know that, she took his instead.

Little did he suspect that if he'd chosen to wear his solid gold Rolex, the night would have ended quite differently!

By the time Dempsey and Harry walked into SI-10 on Monday morning, the news of their engagement had spread like wildfire and the whole team gave them a slow handclap, wide grins on their faces, some natural, some forced, the latter being those who wished they'd plucked up the courage to ask her out in the past and realising now they'd missed their chance.

Nevertheless, they all liked and respected Dempsey and, having been witness to the frostiness Harry had subjected him to in the early months of their working partnership, they were mightily impressed at how he'd won her heart.

They were equally impressed with her glittering engagement ring when she proudly held it up for all to admire.

The post mortem on Dave's body hadn't brought up any glaring clues except for one. The pathologist had noticed that a band of skin on his left wrist was lighter than the rest of his wrist and arm, indicating it was highly likely he'd been wearing a thick bracelet or watch.

"I doubt it would have been a bracelet." remarked Harry. "Mens jewelry of that sort usually consist of a thin rope type strap or one with links."

"So it's more likely to've been a watch." said Dempsey, running his hand through his hair.

"Yes, but I wonder why the killer took it?" she said. "His wallet still had about forty pounds in it, so if he'd been killed in order to be robbed, that would have been stolen too."

"Yeah." said Dempsey, rubbing his chin and trying to think it through. "So the killer either likes watches or stole it to sell it. But then, if the last bit's the case, why is the dough still there?"

At that point, Chas called over to them.

"Guys, I've got a name." he said. "Fingerprint records have come up with a David Martin Callaghan, aged forty-four, married, one daughter, address 15, Portis Road, Finchley, North London. He was done for dangerous driving and driving under the influence. Knocked a female cyclist over and injured her. Received an eighteen month ban and a suspended sentence. Seems it was his first and only conviction. Bear in mind this was two years ago, so things may have changed."

"Thanks Chas." said Dempsey, looking across at Harry. "C'mon pardner, let's put some flesh on the bone."

They drove over to Finchley, found the address, a modest two bedroomed semi and knocked on the door.

An attractive, middle aged woman opened it, looking a little startled when they held up their badges.

"Police!?" she exclaimed. "Why are you calling on me?"

"Good morning. Are you Mrs Callaghan?" asked Harry.

"Yes, well, that is, I was." she replied. "I'm divorced now."

"Ah." said Dempsey. "I'm Lieutenant Dempsey and this is Sergeant Makepeace. We're here, ma'am, about your ex husband. Mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?"

"Er er no, no." she said, opening the door wider, Harry and Dempsey following her into her living room.

"Please sit down." said Mrs Callaghan. "How can I help you then. You said it was about Dave?"

"Yes Mrs Callaghan." said Harry, suspecting that, despite her divorce, the news may upset her. "I'm sorry to have to tell you that his body was found in the early hours of Saturday morning. I'm afraid he'd been fatally stabbed."

Mrs Callaghan's hand flew to her mouth as tears began to fill her eyes.

"Oh no." she said, her voice breaking. "Milly will be devastated. She loved her Daddy so much."

"That's your daughter, right?" said Dempsey, Harry firing him a glance that said 'obviously!' all over it! " Sorry, 'course it was. Er, we have a cuppla questions okay?"

"Yes, um yes." she replied, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing her eyes with it. "What did you want to know?"

"He was found over in Camden Town." said Harry. "Do you know why he might have been there?"

"No, I haven't a clue." replied Mrs Callaghan. "Although I think one of his friends lives there."

"Any idea of his name?" asked Dempsey.

"Alec, Alec Harris." she said. "But that's all I know, I'm sorry."

"Would anyone know where we could find Mr Harris?" asked Harry.

"My ex parents-in-law might know."

"What's their address? And 'phone number if you've got it." asked Dempsey.

"Yes I've still got those. They see Milly regularly."

She read the details out, Dempsey noting them down in his small, black, flip-top notebook.

"Did your ex husband own a watch, Mrs Callaghan?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes, his pride and joy." she said. "It was a gift from all his family and friends when he turned forty. They all clubbed together to buy it for him."

"What make of watch, do you know?" asked Dempsey.

"Yes, a solid gold Rolex." she replied. "It cost a fortune!"

"And, please forgive this question, but was he interested in men?" asked Harry, biting her lip, embarrassed.

"Men!? You mean like..." her voice trailed off.

"Yes, Mrs Callaghan. I'm sorry, but you see we don't know whether his murderer might have been homosexual." explained Harry. "We need to know what type of person we should be looking for."

"Dave was male all through!" she replied, her tone of voice hardening. "We divorced because I found out he was having numerous one night stands with anyone in a skirt!"

"Oh I see." said Harry." I'm sorry."

"Well thanks Mrs Callaghan." said Dempsey. "I guess that's all for now."

"Yes thanks." repeated Harry. "Don't get up, we can see our own way out."

She stood up anyway and showed them to the door.

Dempsey and Harry set off for Dave's parents address, but they weren't at home.

"No matter." said Dempsey, when they returned to the car. "We've got their 'phone number. We'll check 'em out later. So Dave Callaghan had a gold Rolex."

"Yes." replied Harry. "Perhaps that's what the 'R' stood for, what do you think, Dempsey?"

"Yeah it fits, that's fo' sure." he agreed. "It's a long shot, but maybe it's been pawned."

"But we've already said, if stealing the Rolex and selling it was the motive for killing him, why was his wallet left untouched?" mused Harry.

"I dunno angel." replied Dempsey. "Maybe the watch _was_ the only reason. There's a lot of messed up people out there. I guess we should visit the pawn shops in Camden Town, if anything, to rule that motive out."

"Ok let's go." she said, pulling him to her before he started the car and kissing his lips.

"And that was for...? he asked, grinning at her.

"I felt like it! I love you so I wanted to kiss you." she said, passion in her eyes. "Okay? Come on then, start the car."

Still grinning, Dempsey obliged and they roared off to Camden Town, where they discovered only half dozen pawn shops existed. It wasn't until they visited the last one that they thought they may have dropped lucky.

"Yeah." said the owner, looking Harry up and down. "I 'ad a young gel in 'ere with a Rolex, solid gold GMT Master. Gave 'er five grand for it."

"When was that?" asked Dempsey.

"Oh now yer askin'." he replied, rubbing his chin. "A few weeks ago it was."

"Can you describe the person who sold it to you?" asked Harry, merely for the record.

"Yeah, in 'er twenties I'd say. She was a little looker, though." he said. "Black 'air, green eyes, nice tits, tight arse, yer know..."

Yeah ok pal, we get the picture." butted in Dempsey. "Have you still got the piece?"

"Nah mate." he replied. "Flew out it did. Got eight grand for it. Tidy profit, that."

"What about the details, serial number for instance." asked Dempsey.

"Yeah, I always keep a record, 'alf a mo." he said and pulled out a dog eared ledger, his eyes scrolling down it. "Here we are. 803806. That's a number from a production run in the mid sixties, I believe."

"Oh, so it was around twenty years old then." said Harry, the pawn broker nodding at her.

"Okay." said Dempsey. "An there was no box, or guarantee or nothin' that might verify it further?"

"Nah mate." he said. "Pity that. It'd been worth double with the right paperwork 'an stuff."

"Did you get the girls name and address?" asked Harry.

"Yeah 'alf a tick." he said, grabbing another ledger."Yeah 'ere we are. Mary Allen, 24, Smith Street, Camden. But I should tell yer. I've lived around 'ere all me life 'an I never 'eard of that address. So, just to check I looked it up in an A-Z. It don't exist mate."

"Really. Ok thanks." said Dempsey.

"We should run that serial number through 'Records'." said Harry, once back in the car. "If whoever pawned it has given out a false name and address, it could well have been stolen in the first place. You never know, it might lead somewhere."

"Yeah, good idea angel." replied Dempsey. " At least it looks like Callaghan's murderer was female, judgin' by what his ex wife said." replied Dempsey. "So we've got somewhere, this mornin'. Fancy some lunch, princess."

"I fancy a bit more than that, darling." she said, looking sideways at him, a glint in her eye, then sighing. "But it'll have to wait."

It never failed to amaze Dempsey at how passionate Harry was. Thinking back to the cold, aloof, often moody female he'd at first encountered, the contrast was so astonishing he didn't recognise them as being the same person. But, of course, there was no contest as to which Harry he preferred and with his heart skipping, he took her to lunch.

Billie Maddox had enjoyed her night with Rupert. And she'd been quietly overwhelmed at his penthouse, the stunning views, expensive furnishings and huge double bed, setting her libido on fire. She'd decided she was definitely going to call him, but would leave it for a few days, not wishing to appear over keen.

Braless and wearing a tight, white 'T' shirt, her cowboy boots tucked into a pair of slim fitting pale blue jeans with a brown leather belt looped through at the waist, her figure was accentuated, producing admiring and lustful glances from the males she passed as she walked the high street.

Calling in at 'The Black Cap' for half a lager, she saw the picture of Dave pinned up at the back of the bar and realised she'd been reckless in killing him so close to home. Still, she thought, no-one had given out her description so she ordered her drink, sat at a nearby table and lit a cigarette.

With the weather promising a warm afternoon, she decided to grab a sandwich and a can of coke and hop on a bus to Regents Park to enjoy the meal. Being a Monday, and all the kids still in school, it was quiet, so she sat on a bench, ate her lunch and soaked up the sunshine.

After a while a young lad of around nineteen sauntered up and sat down next to her.

"Nice day ain't it, luv." he said, looking at the swell of her 'T' shirt, her nipples clearly prominent.

"Yeah, ain't it." she replied, disinterested.

He reached into the top pocket of his shirt and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, his sleeve riding up and exposing a gold Rolex.

The switch in her head flicked on, the memories once again vivid, the anger building, the revenge imminent and the need to kill him all engulfing.

"Got a spare fag then?" she asked, looking at him, sliding closer so their thighs touched, then leaned into him deliberately brushing him with her breast.

"Yeah 'course." he said, believing all his Christmases had come at once. She casually stroked his arm as he reached across to light her cigarette.

"What's yer name?" she asked.

"Joe. What's yours?"

"Billie." she said, looking into his eyes and giving him the 'come on'. "Wanna go somewhere quiet, Joe?"

"You a hooker?" he asked.

"Who me? Nah, I just like yer, that's all." she said, then smiling. "I 'ain't gonna charge yer!"

"Where can we go then?" he asked.

"There's a lot of bushes an' stuff over there." she said, pointing. "Come on, there's no-one about anyway."

She took his hand as they wandered over to a thick clump of undergrowth, parting the foliage and climbing in to an open space, the vegetation closing around them.

Billie lay down flat on the ground and reached for the buttons to Joe's jeans, Joe mirroring her and undoing her belt, then the top button, followed by her zipper, panting as he closed in to kiss her.

His closeness and his breath reeking of cigarettes was enough to send her over the edge.

She slipped her hand to her hip, gripped the knife and slid it out of its scabbard, then brought it sharply down into his neck, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing, then quickly rolled away as the blood began to gush from the multiple wounds.

She knelt there, grinning as she watched him die, then pulled his jeans and underwear down and got to work on him. Finished, she then removed the Rolex and finally, drew the watch symbol on his forehead.

Later, her anger sated, her revenge taken, her whole being tingling, she caught a bus to Haringey and walked into the nearest pawn shop, handing over the Rolex.

The owner took it off her and, putting a loupe to his eye, inspected it closely.

"Twenty-five quid." he said, putting the loupe down and looking at her.

"What!?" exclaimed Billie, her green eyes flashing. "That's a gold Rolex! It's worth bleedin' thousands, you robbin' bastard!"

"It would be luv if it was a real one." he replied. "It's a fake. Where'd you buy it. Off of some beach bum in Spain?"

She looked at him, seething, then turned on her heel and marched out.

"'Ere!" he shouted after her. "Your watch!"

"Sod the watch!" she shouted back and found the nearest pub, ordering a double brandy and tossing it back in one.

After their lunch, Dempsey and Harry motored over to Dave Callaghan's parent's address and this time found them in.

As with his ex wife, they broke the news to them, Harry comforting his mother. Eventually, Dempsey asked if they knew Alec Harris and, if so, where he could be found.

"He's an old friend of David's." said Mr Callaghan. "He works as a parts delivery driver for the Renault garage in Camden."

Thanking them, they finally left and drove over to Camden, pulling into the Renault dealership and finding the parts department. Asking for Alec Harris, he finally came out to meet them, his eyes lighting up at seeing Harry.

Fancying himself as a bit of a ladies man he was all for flirting with her, despite Dempsey's presence, but as soon as she waved her badge in his face, his intention disappeared rapidly.

"Now I have your undivided attention Mr Harris." she said. "We believe you knew a David Callaghan."

"_Knew_?" he questioned, looking at them wide eyed.

"Yeah, he's dead I'm afraid." said Dempsey, watching him closely.

"Where? How?" asked Harris.

"Stabbed in Camden Town late last Friday night or early Saturday morning." replied Harry.

"Oh my God." said Harris. "I was supposed to meet 'im in 'The Black Cap' there for a few pints but I got snarled up in a big smash on that new M25. Stuck there for 'ours I was. Thought it'd be quicker. There was no way I could get a message to 'im, you see. I thought it was odd 'e 'adn't rung me."

"The Black Cap you say." said Harry.

"Yeah, on the 'igh street."

"Yeah we know it." confirmed Dempsey. "So you weren't meetin' anyone else. Just you and him."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Okay, thanks." said Dempsey, he and Harry leaving with Harris still in shock.

Back in the car, Dempsey radio'd into SI-10 to check on any developments and spoke to Chas who told him nothing had emerged at all.

"Ok can you run this serial number through 'Records' for us Chas." asked Dempsey. "It's a solid gold Rolex GMT Master, serial number 803806, made in the sixties. Could've been part of a heist or somethin' round 1966. Seems it was pawned but the seller left false personal details. Might be somethin' there."

"Ok Dempsey." said Chas. "I'll let you know."

"We're signin' off. See yer tomorrow."

In Regents Park, a group of teenagers were playing football, one of their goal mouths, fashioned from two bundles of shirts, had a clump of vegetation as a backdrop.

A powerful volley flew past the goalie and disappeared into the thick bushes. Parting all the foliage he peered into a clear space and immediately threw up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Four.**

'Watches of Switzerland' was established in 1924 and boasted an unrivalled, world wide clientele.

Should one wish to stay in London, one usually chose 'The Ritz Hotel' on Park Lane, if one wanted to purchase a Rolls Royce or Bentley, one usually chose H R Owen in Berkeley Square, and if one wanted to buy a watch, one usually chose 'Watches of Switzerland' at any one of their several exclusive London addresses.

So it wasn't surprising that Harry could be seen walking into their famous Jaeger-LeCoultre Boutique at 1a Old Bond Street and being courted by the manager.

Her friend and ex colleague, Joyce, had been one of the first people Harry had told about her engagement to Dempsey, seeing as she had been instrumental in bringing them back together, after Harry had resigned from SI-10 a year or so previously.

Joyce had suggested they get together, so after Dempsey and Harry had finished interviewing Alec Harris and told Chas they were signing off for the day, Harry had asked Dempsey if he'd mind her meeting up with Joyce for early evening cocktails.

"Sure honey, 'course I don't mind." he'd said, kissing her. "Knock yerself out and give my best to Joyce. Just make sure you take a cab, no drivin' for you if you're gonna be haulin' back the booze, huh?"

"Thank you darling." she'd said, with that now familiar look in her eye as she returned his kiss. "I won't be late, I have plans for you tonight."

She'd met Joyce in a cocktail bar round the corner from Old Bond Street, telling her she wanted to buy Dempsey an engagement present and knew he had a fondness for Rolex watches.

"It's coincidental actually, Joyce." Harry had said. "We're currently working on a murder case involving a Rolex. They aren't my first choice as it happens, Cartier are my favourite, but James loves them, so that's all that matters."

"I think that's normal, Harry." Joyce had replied. "I've always considered Cartier to be a ladies make too and Rolex for men."

They'd finished their drinks and were now at the Boutique being shown a tray of the famous brand, all in various shades of solid gold.

After serious thought and with Joyce's input, Harry finally selected a 'Submariner Date', part of the 'Oyster Perpetual' selection. Finished in yellow gold with a black face it was a classic, first introduced in 1953 and predominately aimed at those who had a passion for diving the oceans, seeing as it was capable of withstanding pressure to one thousand feet.

Harry knew Dempsey had little interest in doing that, but would adore it's design, heritage and style, so agreed the sale. The manager explained she'd have to return with Dempsey so they could adjust it to the particular rythyms of his pulse, seeing as it silently ticked away in perpetuity.

She'd just finished the transaction when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Swinging round, she was met with the smiling, handsome face of Rupert Barrington-Smythe.

"Rupert! Hi." she said, offering her cheek as he bent to kiss it. "Long time no see. How are you?"

"I'm great thanks Harriet." replied Rupert, then pointing to the tray of watches, continued. "What are you doing looking at these? If I recall correctly, Cartier is your favourite time piece and these are for men anyway. Who's the fortunate chap? Your father? He was seventy recently, wasn't he?"

"Cartier still is my favourite, Rupert." she said. "And no, one of these isn't for Freddy. I'm buying an engagement present for my fiance."

"You're getting married!?" asked Rupert, clearly surprised. "Wow! I really thought, after your last disastrous venture, you'd probably end up living with someone - you know, easier escape route and all that stuff!"

"Well it just shows how wrong you can be, doesn't it." replied Harry, then glancing at Joyce, who was clearly taken with him. "Oh, I'm sorry Joyce, do forgive me. Rupert, this is an old friend of mine. Joyce meet Rupert."

"The pleasure's all mine, Joyce." said Rupert, and with a gallant flourish, took her hand and touched it lightly with his lips, Joyce blushing in response.

"Still the charmer, I see." said Harry, smiling. "Listen, we're throwing an engagement party soon at Winfield Hall, so you must come. Are you still at the same address."

"I am, yes." he replied. "And I'd be delighted. Now, who's the lucky fellow? Do I know him?"

"No you don't know him." said Harry, smiling. "He's an American, from New York and the love of my life, Rupert. That's all you need to know. Anyway, why are you in here?"

"Oh, I've brought one of my Rolex's in to be serviced." he said, then changing the subject back to the impending party. "Presumably the invitation will include a guest?"

"Of course, you idiot." said Harry, laughing. "Do you really think I'd do that to you? And just how many lovely ladies do you have hanging off your arm these days?"

His first thought was Billie. Ever since their night together, he couldn't get her out of his mind.

"Oh yes, there are a few." he answered, smiling and winking at them both.

They finally parted company with him, the two girls walking out arm in arm and returning to the cocktail bar they'd met in earlier.

"Gosh, he was dishy." said Joyce, sipping her drink. "One of your ex's?"

"No, not really Joyce." replied Harry. "He took me to dinner a couple of times, not long after Robert and I had finally split up. I probably wasn't the best of company, to be honest."

"No, I remember how destroyed you were." recalled Joyce. "I don't think you were anybody's best of company."

"Certainly not James's!" chuckled Harry. "I put him through sheer hell you know. God only knows how he stuck it."

"I think he fell in love with you on sight, Harry." said Joyce. "You know, sometimes when you're on the outside looking in, you can see these things."

"Yes, and if it hadn't been for you, I'd still be in denial! I remember thinking he was pretty hot myself when I first clapped eyes on him." admitted Harry. "But I held it all back. Anyway, it's all in the past. It's the future that's important now. He's my soulmate, my lover, my best friend and now my husband to be."

"Harry you're a different person!" exclaimed Joyce. "The transformation in you is quite remarkable. I've never seen you so relaxed, content and at peace with yourself. I have to say Dempsey drove me up the wall when I worked with him, but with you, it's the exact opposite! I think it's wonderful news, I'm really happy for you - and him, of course!"

"Thanks Joyce." replied Harry, smiling broadly. "You've been a true friend. Are you stepping out with anyone?"

"No, not right now."

"Ah, well there may be a few eligible batchelors at our party." she replied. "You never know!"

When she arrived back home, she saw that Dempsey's car wasn't parked, and a little puzzled, wondered where he'd gone.

The note on the kitchen table told her.

'_Harry. Another murder, Regents Park. Stay here. Explain when home. D x'_

"Oh no" she groaned. "Not tonight." The cocktails had made her a little tipsy and when she was tipsy, she felt seductive.

She knew he'd come in and want to tell her the details of the latest murder, but still changed into a short, sexy cotton dress, re-applied her make-up then opened some white wine.

By the time Dempsey got back however, it was late and she'd fallen asleep on the sofa, her hair covering half her face, where it had flopped forward as she'd nodded off. Noting the empty bottle on the table and her half filled glass, he realised she'd been waiting up for him.

He knelt down in front of her and brushed her hair back off her face, then kissed her tenderly on the lips.

"Hell fire angel, but you're so beautiful." he whispered to her sleeping face. "I love you so very much."

Then he picked her up and carried her through to the bedroom, lying her down on the bed, before pulling the covers around her.

He went through to the lounge and poured himself a large whisky, swirling it round in the glass, then taking a hefty slug, wanting to drown out the image he'd seen in Regents Park.

Like Harry, he fell asleep that night a little drunk, but for wildly different reasons.

The next morning, Harry woke first and snuggled up close to him, wrapping her legs round his and laying her hand across his stomach. Then she looked down at herself and noticed she was still wearing the cotton dress from the night before.

Realising what had probably happened, she smiled and disentangled herself from him, changed into a dressing gown and went through to the kitchen, preparing some fresh coffee and frying up bacon and eggs.

Not long after, he came through, yawning, and kissed her good morning, reaching for the belt of her dressing gown, untieing it and sliding his arms around her naked waist. She reached for him and whispered.

"I wanted to do this last night."

"Better late than never then." he whispered back, as he switched off the cooker, lifted her into his arms and carried her back to their bed.

Later, after having eaten a freshly cooked breakfast, Dempsey explained, as they drank their coffee, what had happened the night before.

"You'd only been gone five minutes when Spikings called." he said. "Our killer had struck again. Exactly the same as Callaghan. Stabbed in the neck, castrated, wallet in tact and no watch, assumin' he was wearin' one, 'cos this was a relative youngster. His name was Joseph Chapman. Had a Visa credit card in the wallet, so Chas'll be trackin' down his address through them. He was found hidden in the undergrowth in Regents Park, same symbol drawn on his forehead."

"Any witnesses?" asked Harry.

"Nope. None that's come forward anyway." replied Dempsey. "We're gonna put it out on the next "Crimewatch", so maybe we'll get a lead or two from that."

"How old was he?"

"'Bout nineteen, twenty?"

"Time of death?"

"Between two and three thirty yesterday afternoon, they reckon."

"In broad daylight!?"

"Yup."

"Good God Dempsey!" exclaimed Harry. "She's brazen isn't she!?"

"Yeah and sick in the head!" he replied.

Billie, upon waking up that morning, had decided to call Rupert, not caring now that only a couple of days had passed since their night together. She'd reckoned that if he liked her as much she liked him, then he'd be glad she'd got in touch. And if he played it cool, then she'd dump him and move on.

Walking to the nearest telephone kiosk, she dug his number out of her pocket and dialled, her heart beginning to pump in expectation.

"Hello?" came his voice. She pushed in some coins, waited for the beeps to finish, then continued.

"Rupert? It's Billie."

"Billie! Hi there, it's great to hear from you. Where are you, a 'phone box!?"

"Yeah." she replied. "I was just out wakin' an' I thought I'd call."

"Fantastic! How have you been?"

"Fine thanks, you?"

"Yes, I'm good thanks. I've been thinking of you, Billie."

"Have you? Me too. I mean, me thinkin' of you that is."

"Yes, I know what you mean." he chuckled. "Look, are you free tonight? I'd like to take you to dinner."

"Yeah, I'm free."

"Well, how about if I collect you at, say, seven o'clock? I know that sounds a touch early, but there's a lovely restaurant I know in Bray, over in Berkshire. It's right on the river and perfect for the weather we're having. Bit of a drive out but not too far."

"Okay. I'd like that."

"Give me your address."

"Oh well look, I am meetin' a mate at five in town." she lied. "So why don't I come over to your place at seven."

"Yes okay, that'd work. Great. See you then. Bye for now Billie."

"Bye." she repeated, and replaced the receiver slowly, a feeling of joy washing over her that she'd never experienced before.

She decided she was going to look as good as she could, so grabbed a handful of cash and took a cab to Oxford Street, strolling into Selfridges and along to the womens fashion store on the ground floor.

She eventually bought a white, leather mini skirt, later contrasting it with a sunflower yellow, chiffon blouse, featuring a v neck and long sleeves. In the footwear department, she purchased a pair of kitten heel leather shoes in bold primary colours of red, blue and yellow and in the handbag store a leather clutchbag in the same colour as her blouse.

To complete her ensemble she finally went into the jewelry section and bought a silver tone metal necklace with a matching clip earring set, designed as clear, heart shaped beads in blue and green.

Thrilled with her decisions, she couldn't wait to get dressed and ready and, on the way home in her cab, began to visualize the way in which the evening would go, hoping and wanting it to end in Ruperts bed again.

Meanwhile, Harry had been deliberating as to how she could present Dempsey with his engagement gift and had decided that the perfect way would be over a romantic, candle lit dinner for two.

On the way into SI-10 she suggested it.

"Shall we go out for dinner tonight, darling?" she asked. "There's a lovely sounding restaurant on the Thames called 'The English Maid' which is a 1933 Dutch barge that plied the Seine for years and is now a luxurious permanent fixture between the Vauxhall and Lambeth bridges."

"Yeah angel, that'd be cool." replied Dempsey. "Warm summer evenin' in those surroundin's, on the River Thames with my beautiful fiance on my arm? Nothin' can beat that, princess!"

She sat back in her seat, so happy and in love she could almost cry!

When they walked into the office and enquired after the autopsy on Joe Chapman, Chas reported nothing untoward except that, again, there were faint signs he'd been wearing a watch.

"This is startin' to look like a pattern, Harry." remarked Dempsey. "I guess it wouldn't hurt if we put out a warnin' on the news for guys not to wear their gold Rolex's!"

"I doubt that would be very effective, Dempsey, but at least it would tell the killer that we've taken the hint!" replied Harry.

"Whaddya think Chas?" Dempsey asked.

"Harry's right, Dempsey, but we've nothing to lose by alerting the public." he replied. "I'll organize it for tonight's radio and TV news bulletins."

One person it did subconsciously influence was Rupert Barrington-Smythe, he having seen the report on the ITV News at Six. Upon opening his drawer, full of watches, he was going to select one of his gold Rolex's for his night with Billie, but chose an Omega instead.

Dressed in a white open neck shirt, dark blue trousers and light grey jacket with black leather slip on loafers, he poured himself a vodka and tonic and awaited Billie's arrival.

Billie had got ready well ahead of time, wanting to make sure she looked her absolute best and took special care with her make-up. She didn't have her radio switched on to any channels, preferring to listen to her cassette tapes instead.

And tonight, the knife was staying at home.

Rupert was standing on his balcony surveying the expansive views of the city when the buzzer went. Pressing the entry button, he put his door on the latch and waited for her, catching his breath when she came through it.

"Wow! You look stunning, Billie." he said, looking into her green eyes and then drinking in her full bust, slim waist and shapely legs, enhanced by her white mini skirt.

"Thanks Rupert, you look pretty good yerself." she replied, her heart fluttering at seeing him again.

"Would you like a quick drink before we go?"

"Yeah, great. White wine please."

He opened a bottle of Reisling, chilled in the 'fridge and poured her a glass, carrying it out to the balcony and placing it on a table.

She gazed around at the spectacular view of London, just a hint of dusk replacing the early evening and felt very lucky to have met this guy.

Rupert couldn't help himself and, putting an arm around her waist, pulled her to him, kissing her passionately on the lips. She felt her legs go weak and heart begin to beat faster.

'What's happening to me?' she thought, virtually melting at his touch.

"I think we'd better go." he said quietly and, finishing their drinks, he escorted down to the underground carpark, steering her to his scarlet Lotus, opening the passenger door for her and becoming aroused by her shapely thighs as her short skirt got even shorter when she slid into the leather bucket seat.

He drove fast, the speed thrilling her and it wasn't long before they were sat at a window table overlooking the Thames at Bray.

"Great car." she'd said as he accelerated past a slow moving truck.

"Thanks." Rupert had replied. "Haven't had it long."

This second evening out was just as enjoyable as the first and, as Billie had hoped and wanted, they fell into bed together the instant they arrived back in his penthouse - and this time she stayed all night.

She was first to awake and lay there, listening to Ruperts steady breathing in sleep, then glanced over at him, her heart swelling.

For the first time ever in her terrible, broken and tragic young life, she had fallen in love.


	6. Chapter 6

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Five.**

Dining when close to water, whether it be the ocean or a river, always added that extra touch of romance to any special meal and their candle lit dinner on 'The English Maid' was no exception.

As the Thames flowed by them, its surface gently rippling and glinting in the moonlight, with London's unique mix of illuminated buildings acting as a backdrop, Dempsey's and Harry's evening was as near perfect as it could get.

After enjoying a delicious meal and whilst waiting for their coffee's and liqueurs to arrive, Harry chose that moment to reach into her purse and hand her engagement gift to Dempsey.

With the floating restaurant's subtle lighting and soft music adding its special magic, Dempsey studied Harry's face as he unwrapped the package before him, noting the excitement and expectation in her sparkling blue eyes.

When he finally opened the dark green, leather bound box, and saw the solid gold Rolex nestling in its cleaning cloth, he was speechless for a moment.

"Oh awesome!" he finally exclaimed, pulling her to him as he leaned across the table and kissed her lips. "Harry, I don' know what to say, honey. It's ...just fantastic!

Removing his existing watch, he carefully extracted the Rolex and inspected it's exquisite craftmanship, then slid it over his wrist.

"Oh good!" said Harry. "It fits. No need to take any links out of the strap."

"No, angel. It's just right." he said. "But I guess I'll keep this for best. I ain't gonna risk havin' this ripped off my wrist by some dumbass crook!"

"I should hope not!" said Harry. "You can keep your old one on for work. We'll have to pop back to the shop to have it synchronised to your heart beat, though. Then it should keep perfect time."

"Depends on my heart beat!" he said, looking michieviously at her.

Harry giggled, then whispered. "Be sure to take it off when we get home then, darling."

In the SI-10 office the next morning, Chas came across to them with the results of his search for the Rolex Master that Billie had taken from the dead body of her tormentor.

"It was part of a robbery on a jewellers in Hatton Garden, circa1965." he explained. "But the thieves were never caught."

"So that line of enquiry has been snuffed out." sighed Harry.

"The one and only lead we've got is the girl who pawned that watch." said Dempsey. "I know it was a while ago, but we still need to find her, if anything, to rule her out. It was a Rolex and a woman who sold it. Those two facts fit with the two murders."

Harry agreed, so they returned to the Camden Town pawn shop and instructed the owner to give them a more detailed description of Billie.

An indentikit picture was created and Chas saw to it that the national newspapers and TV companies received copies to support an appeal for her to get in touch, if only to eliminate her as a suspect.

Meanwhile, Billie and Rupert spent the entire day in bed, their hunger for each other limitless.

They were lying in each others arms when he flicked on the TV set to watch the six o'clock news, something he did by habit.

When the rather harsh looking, and not altogether representative, picture flashed up on the screen, he remarked, jokingly.

"Looks a bit like you, Billie."

It was as if Billie had frozen solid staring at the screen. She'd seen the resemblance immediately, but then that wasn't unusual seeing as she was the actual subject.

"Billie?" said Rupert, glancing at her beside him. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Er sorry what?" she replied, mentally shaking herself free of the shock.

"I said, that picture just now, looked a bit like you."

Attack was the best form of defence in Billie's world.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, angrily, sitting up and glaring at him. "I don't look anything like that bitch!"

"Hey, hey, steady on, baby." said Rupert, soothingly, pulling her back down into his arms. "I was only joking. You're way more beautiful. Come here."

He gently turned her angry, frowning face towards him and began kissing her eyes, her cheeks then her lips, his hands beginning to caress and stroke her intimately, igniting her passion once more. She relaxed and gave herself to him.

Later, calm again, she put into words what had been thoughts in her head.

"Do you like my black hair, Rupert?" she asked, sweetly.

"I love your black hair, Billie." he replied, beginning to stroke it. "Why, baby?"

"Don't you like blondes?" she asked.

"Yes, I love blondes too." he said. "In fact, before I met you most of the girls I dated were blondes. Why? Do you want to be blonde?"

"I've always wanted to be blonde." she lied.

"Really?" he replied. "Tell you what. Why don't I take you to a salon I know near here in Chelsea and treat you to a make over. I've known the owner for years and he's one of the best. His clients are celebrities, landed gentry, politicians, you name it, they all use him. He'll do whatever you want, how's that."

"Wow! That'd be cool." she replied.

"Good, consider it done." said Rupert. "In fact, I've got his private number, I'll call him now."

He reached for the bedside telephone and dialled.

"Hey Charles." he said. "It's Rupe. You well? Great. Yeah fine thanks. Listen Charles, my girlfriend would like one of your specials. Can you find a slot for her tomorrow? Brill. Twelve thirty? Super, see you then. Cheers."

"Am I your girlfriend then?" asked Billie, her eyes wide, hardly able to believe it, as she watched him replace the receiver.

"Yes you are, Billie." said Rupert, softly, looking at her. " I think I'm falling for you. Do you think you can love me?"

"I already do." she said quietly, rolling on top of him, kissing him, guiding him again.

When Rupert woke the next morning he reached for her, only to find the space next to him in the bed was empty. Lying on her pillow was a note.

'_Need change of clothes. Be back later. Billie xxx'_

As she was leaving the penthouse building, Billie had tied her hair back into a pony tail rather than leave it as the indentikit picture had shown, her image altered somewhat.

It hadn't been lost on her, that if Rupert didn't even recognise her picture when lying right there beside her, the chances of anyone else doing so was pretty remote.

Nevertheless, she wasn't going to tempt fate so detoured to Victoria Street in Central London, visiting a shop specialising in wigs and purchasing a short, black version.

Keeping it on, she then caught a cab to Camden Town and once back in her bedsit, showered and changed into her pale blue jeans, choosing a tight fitting dark blue T shirt as a contrast and pulling on her brown cowboy boots.

Conscious that Rupert would probably undress her later, she didn't attach the knife to herself, but slipped it inside a pocket in her handbag.

Being psychopathic, and thereby manipulative, deceitful, impulsive and inclined to take the odd risk, Billie was also developing schizophrenia, common among disturbed females in their twenties and thirties, her unending and terrifiying experiences as a child being the cause and consequently her split mind was why she was capable of feeling love for Rupert, yet switch, in an instant, into a killer when the trigger was applied.

In her case, it was a gold Rolex watch, but only if worn by a male. She had no memory or fear of a woman wearing one, just the association of a man and the black dial of a Rolex - it being so distinctive.

As a consequence of all this, she was becoming ever more dangerous.

Before she left home she piled her hair up into a bun, sweeping it back off her face. Satisfied with her different look, she pulled the wig back on and left for Ruperts penthouse, looking forward to her make over and being with him again.

As she approached the building, she quickly whipped off the wig and stuffed it into her handbag.

The walk to the salon took less than five minutes and she was soon undergoing quite a transformation to her hair and, thereby, the way she looked.

Of course, the underlying reason was to distance her image as far away from the indentikit picture as possible, so she wasn't necessarily concerned with the finished product. Having poured over photographs of a multitude of differing styles with Rupert, she went with the one he most liked.

Cutting most of her hair off, Charles dyed it white blonde, then fashioned it into a classic design where the ends are cut to around jaw level and aligned close to the facial area. In many ways, very like that of Cilla Black's style of the sixties, each strand of her hair being similarly thin and straight.

Rupert was delighted with it.

"You look completely different, Billie." he said, astonished at the transformation. "Still beautiful, of course, in fact more beautiful! Come on, I'm going to take you to Juju on the Kings Road, where I can show you off!"

Sitting on high stools at the bar, they were both enjoying 'Buttered Monkeys' made up of Rum Chata, vanilla vodka, banana liqueur and butterscotch schnapps, when a friend of Rupert's came in via the rear entrance and, waving at him, walked up to them both.

"Hi Giles." welcomed Rupert, giving him a high five. "How's business?"

"Rupert old man, good to see you. Yeah, business booming." replied Giles, then glancing at Billie. "And who's this gorgeous little poppet?"

"Billie this is Giles." introduced Rupert. "An old school chum of mine."

"Billie? Lovely name." lied Giles, pecking her cheek, disliking her immediately, then pointing to the drinks. "I say, those look rather intoxicating. What are they?"

"Buttered Monkeys." replied Rupert. "Shall I order you one?"

"No I think I'll go for the Champagne Limoncello Cocktail." replied Giles. "So what brings you two in here?"

"Just fancied an afternoon drink, that's all." said Rupert, calling the barman over and ordering Giles's cocktail. "Why are you here? I thought you'd be slaving away at the derivatives market, making boodles of dosh."

"Ah, just tied up a new, very lucrative contract." explained Giles. "So taken the rest of the afternoon off."

His drink arrived, Rupert pulling out his wallet to pay for all three at once.

"Oh damn! I've run out of cash." he exclaimed. "I'll just run to the cash machine. I think there's one close by. Will you be okay, Billie?"

"Yeah, 'course." she replied, smiling at him.

"Use a credit card, old man." suggested Giles.

"Don't possess one." replied Rupert. "Cash or bank transfer with me."

After Rupert had left, Giles moved up close to her.

"What's a little blonde bimbo slapper like you doing with Rupert, eh?" he snarled, glaring threateningly at her. "Out for all you can get, I'll bet!"

"Whadda you care?" she replied, unafraid, her eyes looking back at him, cool as they come.

"He's my chum, that's what!" he snarled again, raising his hand and pointing his finger at her, the sleeve of his suit jacket riding up his wrist, exposing a gold Rolex with a black face. "And I don't want to see him get ripped off by trash like you!"

Her brain flooded with vile images, memories flowed in like an evil, unstoppable torrent, revenge filled her very senses, the anger reaching the point of no return.

"I make 'im 'appy." she said, her eyes flashing a sexual message to him. "I know how to make a man 'appy. I could make you 'appy."

Her figure had not been lost on him, he'd noticed her large breasts pushing at the tight fitting T shirt, her sensious mouth as she spoke and his lust got the better of him.

"Come out to my car." he said, quietly, panting. "It's out the back in the car park, a large blue Audi."

He left her then and walked to the rear entrance/exit, leaving through a door marked "Toilets".

She hung back for a couple of minutes, then followed, the bar sparse of customers, no-one taking any notice and unclipped the hasp of her bag, so it opened slightly and took the knife out of it's hidden pocket, leaving it loose at the bottom of the bag.

She saw the car immediately, with Giles in the back and sauntered over, opening the door and sliding in next to him. He'd already removed his jacket and pulled his trousers to his ankles, only his underwear remaining in place.

"Come on then you whore." he growled. "Make me happy."

She began to stroke his inner thigh.

"Close your eyes then." she said, seductively. "It's nicer for you, that way."

He did so.

With her one hand still stroking his leg, she quietly reached into her bag with the other, drew out the knife and launched it at his neck, quickly getting out of reach of the blood.

Minutes later she left the car, her revenge taken and calm again.

She walked into the ladies toilet and washed her hands, re-applied her make-up and went out to the bar, the gold Rolex languishing in her bag.

Rupert still hadn't returned, so she sat quietly and waited for him.

A few minuted later he finally came in, surprised to see her on her own, sure that Giles would have stayed with her.

"Where's Giles?" he asked, breathing hard from running.

"I dunno." lied Billie, shrugging. "He went through the back to the bogs I think. Anyway, where've you been all this time?"

"Oh a nightmare!" he replied, successfully deflected "The first cash machine was out of action because a security fellow was re-filling it. So I had to go and find another. Seemed like miles away. Another drink?"

"No." she said, taking his hand. "I'd rather go to bed."

Dempsey and Harry had been having a frustrating day. Nothing had come in from the news bulletins, apart from worthless leads. Some had thought the indentikit picture was of a man, others were convinced it was their long lost relative who'd disappeared for a myriad of different reasons years ago.

"It was a pretty awful picture, Dempsey." said Harry, trying to ease their feeling of helplessness. "I mean, if people think it's a man, what hope have we got!"

"None angel." replied Dempsey, running both his hands through his hair and sighing. "Spikings is gonna be champin' at the bit soon. Where is he anyway? Hey Chas, where's the Chief? He ain't been in all day."

"At a conference." replied Chas. "Be back tomorrow."

"Oh great!" said Dempsey, Harry grinning at him, then leaning across her desk to him.

"Aw, you need a tension relaxer." she whispered, winking at him.

"Cut it out!" he hissed, but grinning all the same. "Don't put images in my head! I won't be able to stand up!"

Harry giggled. She so loved teasing him with her sexual innuendo's, although she always made good on them.

Just then Chas's 'phone rang. As he listened he snapped his fingers in the air, looking at them both and nodding. He put the 'phone down.

"Looks like another one." he said. "Juju's on the Kings Road."

"I know it." said Harry.

"Okay we're on our way." said Dempsey.

When they arrived, the local police were taking statements from the few who were there. Showing their badges and being allowed through the yellow barricade tape, they entered the bar and were ushered through to the rear car park.

As soon as Harry saw Giles lying on the bloodied back seat of his car, she grabbed Dempsey's arm.

"I know him!" she said, under her breath.

"Who is he then?" asked Dempsey.

"Giles Courtney. He's an old friend of Rupert Barrington-Smythe's."

"Rupert who?" said Dempsey, looking at her questioningly.

"Barrington-Smythe." she repeated. "He's an old aquaintance of mine. I used to run around with his group of friends. A few years ago now. I actually bumped into him when I was buying your watch, would you believe!"

"Yeah? How come he was there?" asked Dempsey, curious.

"He was having one of his Rolex's serviced." replied Harry.

"_One_ of them!?" said Dempsey, astonished. "Minted huh?"

"_Very_." replied Harry. "In fact, you'll meet him at our party. I invited him."

"Oh okay." said Dempsey.

The pattern was the same as the previous two murders, so there was no doubt the killer had struck a third time.

"I'm beginning to wonder if I should have bought your watch." said Harry, a little dejectedly, when they returned to the car.

"Hey princess." replied Dempsey, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "That's stoopid. What am I gonna do? Not drive this car just because some low life hood has the same model? We'll get this killer. 'An if we're goin' anywhere nice sometime, I'm wearin' the watch! No argument! 'An anyway, we don't know fo' sure if that Giles guy was wearin' a Rolex!"

"No we don't." replied Harry. "But I'll bet he was, Dempsey. I think that's what the 'R' stands for and I also think that's what attracts her to these men."


	7. Chapter 7

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Six.**

Billie and Rupert had only been in bed with each other for half an hour after leaving JuJu's, when his telephone rang.

"Hello? Oh hello mother. What?" he answered, then listened, a frown forming on his face. "Okay. Stop worrying. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm leaving now, I'll be with you soon. Bye."

He turned to Billie, whilst replacing the receiver.

"That was my mother." he said, stating the obvious. "My father's had a mild heart attack it seems. She's in a frightful state though and needs me with her, so I'll have to leave straight away. Sorry baby."

"No matter, I'll be fine." replied Billie, smiling, a little sad, but she had things to do anyway.

"I'll call you when I get a chance." he said. "Give me your number, it's about time I had it anyway."

"I would, but it's outta order." lied Billie. "BT are takin' their time fixin' it too."

"Oh, I see." replied Rupert, slipping out of bed, going to his dressing table and writing something on a piece of paper. "Here's my parent's number. Call me later tonight, will you."

"Ok." replied Billie, getting out of bed too, taking the number and stuffing into her jeans, which she then proceeded to pull on over her lace panties.

Rupert watched as she got dressed, covering up the body that gave him so much pleasure, and sighed.

"I wish I could take you with me." he said, longingly. "But it wouldn't be right in the circumstances. I'll miss you terribly though, Billie."

"Yeah, 'an I'll miss you too, Rupert." she replied, now fully dressed and ready to leave.

He took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, instantly aroused again.

Billie pulled away. She hated goodbye's like this. He had to go, she had to go, so - just go! No messin'!

He walked her to the door.

"I'll just go now." she said, pecking his cheek. "No need to come any further with me. I'll buzz you later."

During the drive to his parents, Rupert ejected the cassette playing through his radio and picked up a news bulletin, learning of Giles' murder in the process. He slid the car to halt, shocked, the urge to go back almost irrestible. Any witnesses were being called on to come forward, but he needed to be with his family. He decided to press on, deal with the immediate situation concerning his father, then call into the local police station and give a statement.

Not long after he'd left, his telephone began ringing again. It was Harry. She'd found his number in an old diary and wanted to commiserate with him over his old friends death.

"I guess you've thought this through, angel." remarked Dempsey.

"What do you mean." she stated, frowning at him.

"No-one in your group of pals know you're a cop. Remember?" he said, eyebrows raised. "So how're you gonna explain that you know this Rupert whatchamacallit's chum is a stiff?"

"Rupert Barrington-Smythe, Dempsey. Er, I heard it on the news?" she suggested, then looking daggers at him. "And do you really have to refer to him as a 'stiff'!"

"That's what they are where I come from." he replied, smiling, hunching his shoulders with his arms by his side, palms turned upwards.

"Well in England, they're simply 'dead', Dempsey!" she replied. She always called him by his surname when either at work or, as in this case, when he'd ruffled her feathers.

"Ok whatever." he replied, chuckling at her, his disarming grin beginning to work its magic as it always did.

"You can be _so_ annoying at times!" she said, trying hard to resist him as he stepped up closer to her, but failing miserably. "But I can't help but love you so." she added, throwing her arms round his neck and melting as his lips met hers.

At SI-10 the next morning, they joined Chas and Spikings in conference.

"So you think the 'R' stands for Rolex then, do you Sergeant?" Spikings was asking.

"Yes, I do sir. " she replied. "And I also think it's the watch that's the motive."

"I think Harry could be on to something here, Chief." added Dempsey, seeing little reason anymore to refer to her by her surname, now that their true relationship was common knowledge. Harry smiled at him in recognition of that as he continued. "We know Giles Courtney was wearin' a watch, the pathologist picked up, again, that his wrist clearly showed the tell tale marks, like the others did."

"I think we should run with that theory, sir." offered Chas. "There's precious little else to go on and it seems to fit the facts."

"Okay, so if we do." Spikings said. "What's she doing with the watches? Keeping them? Selling them? What?"

"That's hard to say, Chief." replied Dempsey. "Courtneys wallet was bulgin' with notes. So she might just be puttin' the watches in a drawer, an' lookin' at 'em now and again, 'cos she's gotta thing for Rolex's."

"Whatever the case, sir." added Harry. "We're dealing with a really disturbed person here. If she's seeing a Rolex on a man's wrist then simply wants to kill him for it, goodness only knows how sick her mind must be!"

"But that's not all she's doing, is it?" said Spikings. "She's taking a knife to them and slicing off...well you know."

"I can only think that perhaps she was raped by a man wearing a Rolex." offered Harry. "And this is all revenge. Maybe the symbol is some sort of clue, too."

"That fit's Chief." said Dempsey.

"Yes you may have something there, Makepeace." agreed Spikings. "And if she's then selling them, she's either going through a fence or simply pawning them. I hear what you say about the wallet, Dempsey, but I think we need to establish some more facts. We need to either rule in or rule out exactly what she's doing with these watches. So if she's not selling them we can eliminate it as a possibility."

"I'll get on to our known fences, sir." said Chas. "Perhaps Dempsey and Harry might call pawn brokers and see if anything comes up."

"Yeah. thanks Chas. That's gonna be a real blast!" said Dempsey, sarcastically. "Maybe when you're finished with the few fences you know, you'll give us a hand!"

"Sure Dempsey, no probs." replied Chas, grinning at him.

"Yes and I'll get our new boy to help you too." said Spikings, referring to Jon, whose first day it was, having replaced the errant Steve, the now dismissed cuckoo.

Billie, having pulled on her black wig, had made her way over to Hackney to search for a pawn brokerage. Finding one quite quickly, she entered and handed over Giles's Rolex.

The pawn broker, one Alfie Bates, picked up his loupe and inspected it, then whistled.

"Where'd you get this, luv?" he asked, his head bent over the watch.

"It was my Dad's." she lied. "Got it in his will."

"Oh, I see. Any paperwork to go with it, certificate like?" asked Alfie, looking up at her, suspicious.

"Nah, I think he lost all that." she replied, noticing the pawn broker's gaze.

"'Alf a mo." he said and made to go into a back room.

"Where you goin'?" she asked, quickly, suspecting, wrongly, he might be calling the cops. "Look I'm in a hurry. Me boyriends parked on double yellas up the road an' he'll go mad if I don't show up in a sec or two."

Luckily for her, Alfie Bates was dodgy and acted as a fence for several crime families. He'd wanted to go and fetch a book detailing all Rolex watches, but she'd prevented him by calling him back. Nevertheless he was pretty certain of this Rolex's heritage.

He'd been around the block a few times and knew she was lying, it was written all over her face. But he also knew she could scarper if he wasted any more time and he'd likely miss out on a real earner.

"Listen luv." he said, leaning closer to her across the counter. "I don't believe a word of what you're tellin' me. But I'm gonna give yer a break. This watch is one of the rare ones. To be more precise 'an to give you it's proper description, this is a 'Black Dial Star Indices Super Oyster Rolex' made in 1952. Solid gold. I'll give you ten grand for it."

"'Ow do you know so much 'bout Rolex's then." she asked, curious and wanted to bite his hand off at the price, but she reckoned he'd be up for a touch of bartering.

"It's my business to know." replied Alfie. "Nar, do we 'ave a deal or what."

"Gimme fifteen grand." she said, her eyes coolly surveying his face.

He rubbed his chin, then grinned at her.

"You're a cute little cookie, ain't yer." he said, smiling, then staring straight into her eyes..

"Twelve 'an that's final. Take it or leave it."

"Ok. Deal." she said and watched excitedley as he went to his safe and brought out a bundle of notes, peeling off twelve thousand pounds in fifty pound derivatives and sliding them into a buff coloured envelope before handing the package over to her.

"Listen, sweet'eart." he said quietly, tapping the side of his nose. "If you come across any more watches, you make sure you come 'ere to Alfie. Mum's the word. I'll see yer right, know what I mean?"

"Ok, I might, Alfie." she said, grinning at him, stuffing the package into her handbag..

"Alright, 'ave it yer own way." he said. "But whoever owns that piece is gonna wan' it back."

"Nah he won't." she said, shaking her head and grinning. "But you've been okay to me. So I might see yer again. Tra."

He chuckled as he watched her skip out of his shop and shaking his head, still grinning, he picked up the 'phone.

"Hello? Tommy?" he said. "Gotcha a watch. Rare one. Solid gold Rolex. What? Twenty-five grand. Yeah. Worth every penny. Paperwork? Yeah, I can getcha some paperwork, Tommy me lad, don' you worry 'bout that."

Dempsey and Harry had been working the 'phones all morning ringing round all the pawn brokerages they could find listed in Thompson's Yellow Pages. Starting with Camden Town and spreading outwards like the ripples in a pool, they hadn't come up with anything.

Until, that is, when Harry made the last call before she and Dempsey decided to take their lunch. It was a pawn brokers in Haringey.

"Yeah." said the owner, after she had introduced herself and asked if any Rolex's had been offered to him. "And no."

"Sorry?" she said, puzzled. "What do you mean yes _and_ no!"

"Well I 'ad a young lady in 'ere a cuppla days ago wiv' a Rolex." he replied. "'Cept it was a fake. Good copy mind, but a fake all the same. Gotta say she was pretty steamin' when I told 'er I'd only give 'er twenty-five quid for it."

"Can you describe her?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, quite a little darlin' actually." he replied. "Long black 'air, green eyes, tasty little figure, if yer get me drift, like."

"Did she give you a name?" asked Harry, ignoring the quip, eager to get on.

"Nah." came the reply. "Went outta here like a shot, she did. Told me to keep the watch."

"Have you still got it?"

"Matter of fact, I 'ave." he replied. "Not a lot I can do with it to be honest."

"Okay look, it's very likely it belonged to a young man who was murdered recently." said Harry.

"Oh good grief." he replied.

"Yes, so can you keep it safe and my partner and I will call in for it this afternoon." said Harry. "It'll be evidence, you understand.

"Okay Sergeant Makepeace." he said. "I'll be here 'an I'll make sure nothin' 'appens to it, neither."

She confirmed his address, then told Dempsey.

"Well done, angel." he said. "How's 'bout we take a trip to that JuJu's place in Chelsea, ask a few questions, have somethin' to eat, then mosey on over to that pawn brokers 'an pick up the watch, huh?"

"Sounds like a plan, Dempsey." she said, smiling at him and taking his hand.

They let Chas know their plans, checked they'd got Joe Chapman's correct address and left.

"My God." said the newbie, Jon, after they'd gone. "But isn't she the most gorgeous woman you've ever seen? Is she married?"

"You'd best sharpen up mate if you want to stay in this team." replied Chas, a little surprised. "Didn't you spot the sparkler on the third finger of her left hand?"

"Er, actually no. I haven't been able to take my eyes of her face all morning." said the poor lad. "Who's she married to?"

"She's not married yet. They're engaged." replied Chas.

"They?" puzzled Jon.

"Her and Dempsey."

"Dempsey!" said Jon, alarmed. "Oh well, I'm not messing with him. He looks like he could be a bit of a handful."

"Maybe you are sharper than you look!" chuckled Chas.

When they arrived at JuJu's the bar was fairly full of lunchtime revellers. They ordered a couple of drinks and a snack each, then Dempsey called the barman over and showed him his badge.

"Yes sir." he said. "How can I help?"

"Were you here when the guy got murdered yesterday?"

"Yes I was." he said, in a wide eyed and feminine way. "Awful wasn't it."

"Yeah, I guess." replied Dempsey, cringing slightly. "Can you describe anyone the victim was with?"

"Yes, a tall, fair haired young man and a blonde girl. He was rather dishy actually."

"Did you catch any names?" asked Harry, trying to surpress a smile, knowing Dempsey's opinion's of effeminate men.

"Yes. Look I've already told all this to the police yesterday." he flounced.

"Well tell us again." demanded Dempsey, his brown eyes hard and boring into him.

"Er, well, he was Rupert, I do know that, but I didn't hear her name at all." he reported. "I was toing and froing behind here."

Harry had grabbed Dempsey's hand at the mention of Rupert.

"Anythin' else sunshine, while you were toin' and froin'?" asked Dempsey, squeezing her hand indicating he knew.

"Er um. The chap called Rupert left them, I think because he'd run out of cash." replied the bartender. "He'd offered to pay for the drinks but couldn't."

"I see, so then what?"

"The blonde girl and the other chap, the one who died, started talking in whispers actually." he said. "Then he went out to the back. I left the bar at that point to get some mixers and when I got back they'd both gone."

"What, both of them?" asked Harry.

"Yes, like a puff of pink smoke. Then she returned, I assume from the ladies powder room." continued the barman. "The chap who had gone, Rupert that is, came back then, paid for the drinks and they both left."

"Ok thanks." said Dempsey. "Remind me not to stand too close to you in future. I wouldn't want you knowin' my secrets!"

Harry dug him in the ribs.

"Forgive him." she said. "He's from New York. Thanks, you've been really helpful. Come along, dear, I think we should go and find a table."

She smiled apologetically at the barman and dragged Dempsey over to a vacant table.

"Dempsey! Did you have to be quite so brash with him?" she hissed.

"Sorry princess, but you know I don't have any time for faggots." he replied, biting into his lunch.

"How do you _know_ he - well, bats for the other side?" she said, following suit with her sandwich.

"Can't you tell? I thought all you females could spot 'em a mile off!" replied Dempsey.

"Yes I admit he was a bit flowery, but that doesn't necessarily mean he prefers men in the bedroom department!" she said. "I've known men like that who are happily married with kids!"

"Poor you! Look again." suggested Dempsey.

She surreptitiously studied the barman, noting how he minced a bit when 'toing' and 'froing' behind the bar, definitely flirting with the males and almost ignoring the women.

"Okay, I think you're right." she conceded. "Anyway, that's no excuse to be rude Dempsey!"

"Have you finished?" he implored, looking at her, pursing his lips and blowing her a kiss.

She giggled and punched his arm. "However _did_ you capture my heart?"

"It's all in the genes, honey." he replied, smiling broadly.

"Yes, well I prefer what else is in your jeans, you rogue!" she said, still giggling at him. "Anyway look, to be serious! That was Rupert who was in here with Giles yesterday!"

"Yeah it was." he replied. "We need to talk to him, pronto."

"You know I tried yesterday but got no answer." said Harry. "And I tried again in between calling those pawn brokers this morning, but still no reply."

"Doesn't he have an answering machine?"

"Yes, but I didn't want to leave a message." she replied. "It'd sound so hollow if I simply said, 'Hi Rupert, sorry to hear about Giles being dead' wouldn't it."

"Guess so." agreed Dempsey. "Try again when we wrap up today an' if there's still no reply leave a message for him to call."

"Okay, perhaps I should have done that in the first place." she said, punching him again as he looked at her, nodding mockingly.

They finished their lunch and for once, skipped the coffee.

Having collected the fake Rolex they drove over to Joe Chapman's home and established with his parents that it was indeed his watch.

"He bought it in Ibiza in April." sobbed his mother. "Paid eight and a half thousand peseta's for it, too. He loved it, never left his wrist."

"We will have to keep it for the time being, Mrs Chapman." explained Harry. "It's evidence you see. But we'll let you have it in due course."

When they arrived back in the office, Harry tried reaching Rupert once more and this time left a message for him to call her when she got his answer machine again.

"I wonder if Angela knows where he is." she mused.

"Angela? I know that name." said Dempsey.

"You should do. It was Angela's red dress you were so taken with in Stringfellows, don't you remember?" said Harry, before screwing her eyes up and scrutinising him. "Or was it Angela you were admiring?"

"Whoa, hey honey." replied Dempsey, grinning at her. "How could I forget that night, or the dress! It looked great on her, but on you, it was sensational!"

"You say all the right things, darling." she whispered, her eyes taking on that seductive look he so loved. "Pass Go and collect your reward later."

She dialled Angela's number and got her answering machine, so left a message for her.

When Billie got back home to her bedsit, she poured all her money out on the bed and counted it. Despite spending some of it on clothes and shoes, it still amounted to twenty thousand pounds.

Thinking of Rupert she decided to buy him something, but didn't know what.

One thing's for sure.

It wasn't going to be a gold Rolex with a black face.

Just as well, seeing as he already had one but hadn't, as yet, worn it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Seven.**

When Angela picked up Harry's message she called her back immediately.

"Harry! It's Angela!" she said excitedly, having not spoken to her friend for quite a time. Along with Joyce, she was the only other person Harry had felt comfortable talking to when her marriage collapsed, so the first thing Angela enquired after was Harry's love life.

"I'm engaged!" replied Harry, proudly.

"Oh my God, who to!?" asked Angela.

"It _really is _a long time since we've had a catch up, isn't it!" said Harry, laughing. "Do you remember James?"

"James, James." repeated Angela, thinking hard before the name clicked in her memory. "Oh you mean hunky dude James? Stringfellows James! Your private dick!?"

"The very same!" confirmed Harry, looking across at Dempsey and blowing him a kiss.

"Harry, I'm not in the least surprised. The chemistry between you two that night was electric!" said Angela. "So come on, tell me all."

"Oh Angela, it's a bit of a long story." replied Harry. "Why don't we meet up tomorrow for lunch. I'll tell you all about it then. In the meantime, I'm trying to locate Rupert."

"Barrington-Smythe?" asked Angela.

"Yes. I presume you've heard about his old friend Giles Courtney?" asked Harry.

"Gosh yes!" replied Angela. "Wasn't that horrific! Poor Giles. But why do you want to speak to Rupert?"

"Well I just wanted to get in touch with him and give him my condolences." explained Harry, tongue in cheek, glancing across at Dempsey who was taking an interest in the hole she was close to digging herself into.

"You went out with him, didn't you?" asked Angela, sounding suspicious.

"Only a couple of times, yes. But that was ages ago, Angela. And completely platonic." replied Harry, rolling her eyes skywards. "But I bumped into him literally a day or so before Giles died, so I thought it right to contact him. All I get though, is his answerphone."

"Oh I _see_!" replied Angela. "Sorry Harry, I've no idea where he is. In fact I haven't seen him for a while now. But look, if I do I'll call you. In the meantine, I can't wait to hear all your news, so where and what time tomorrow."

They agreed to rendezvous at noon the next day, Saturday, at Romano's in Knightsbridge where Harry had enjoyed such an enjoyable lunch with Aunt Alice a few weeks previously.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief after she hung up.

"Sailing a bit close to the edge, angel?" asked Dempsey.

"It was going that way." agreed Harry, joining him on the sofa and putting his arm around her shoulder so she could nestle into him. "I think she was a bit puzzled I was engaged, then asking about Rupert. Still, I think she accepted my explanation. Anyway, I'll soon sort out any confusion when I tell her about how you and I got together."

"Yeah, just stick to that an' you won't trip up. If we put an appeal out via bulletins for Rupert whatsisname to get in touch, you won't have to run the risk of lettin' on to Angela what your real interest in him is." said Dempsey. "We gotta speak to the girl he was with, an' the only way we're gonna be able to do that is through him."

"Okay, I'd much rather talk about you anyway." she said, smiling up at him then closing her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her.

Billie had called Rupert, as promised, and learnt that his father had suffered further heart attacks and was now fighting for his life in hospital.

"I'm going to be out of touch, Billie, I'm afraid." he said, sadly. "I'm just about to go back to him. I'll be staying in the hospital by his side from now on. It really is touch and go as to whether he'll pull through. My mother is in pieces. It's an awful time."

"Can't I call you at the 'ospital?" asked Billie.

"Er, well yes I suppose you could." agreed Rupert. "But I don't have the number handy right now. Directories will give it to you though. It's the Queen Elizabeth in Edgbaston, Birmingham. I'll be in Room 3, Ward 5 when you get through. Thanks Billie, I love you."

"I love you too, Rupert." she replied. "I'll ring you soon."

Despite missing him, she was glad of having a few days to herself.

It had occurred to her, that those people who had been in JuJu's may well have given her desription to the police, so she needed to change her appearance again. Pulling on her short black wig she, first of all, found a nearby shop that sold them and bought a similar one in dark red.

Then she visited an opticians and purchased some opaque eye lenses coloured aqua blue. These weren't contact lenses, simply coloured glass that fitted over the natural eye and, being opaque, they covered the entire surface. As a result, this only allowed a small amount of light through and, consequently, were suited to people who wanted to completely change the colour of their eyes.

Before Dempsey dropped Harry off at Romano's, they called into SI-10, finding Chas, Jamie and Jon on duty.

"Chas, can you get a bulletin put out for Rupert Barrington-Smythe to contact us, urgently?" asked Harry, passing over his description and address.

"Yeah sure Harry." agreed Chas. "Are you worried he's been topped too?"

"No not at all." she replied. "From the various witness statements we've seen, he and the girl were clearly a couple, judging by the canoodling that was going on between them. I don't think he's known her long, though, because I saw him recently and he never mentioned her. But we do need to talk to her as a matter of urgency. She was the last person to see Giles Courtney alive."

"Have we got to the bottom of whether the killer is keeping or selling the watches?" asked Chas. "Last I heard, you saw a pawn broker yesterday who'd had one offered to him."

"It was inconclusive, Chas." replied Dempsey. "The watch was fake, so that could've been the reason she wanted to dump it. Who wants to keep an imitation when you've gotta few real ones?"

"That's assuming she recognised it as a fake, Dempsey." cautioned Harry. "If she thought is was genuine, then that's why she was in there selling it."

"But it's still inconclusive Harry." said Dempsey. "'Cos if she's selling them, why's she ignorin' the dough in the wallets?"

"Because I don't think the motive is money, Dempsey." replied Harry. "I think that's merely a by product. The reason is much darker. I just wish I could work out what it is exactly."

"Can I congratulate you on your engagement Miss Makepeace." piped up Jon, having spotted her dazzling ring.

"What?" said Harry, miles away and looking up at Dempsey.

"You've got an admirer." he said quietly, amused and nodding towards Jon. "Wants to congratulate you."

"Oh yes, thank you Jon." she said, glancing across and smiling at him.

"I think you just made his day." whispered Dempsey, chuckling under his breath.

"Dempsey!" hissed Harry. "Don't be so cruel. He's sweet."

"Sweet!?" he whispered, indignantly. "I'll give 'im sweet! He needs to toughen up if he wants to stay in SI-10!"

"And congratulations to you Mr Dempsey." said Jon.

"Yeah thanks." he replied, waving at him. "Come on Harry, you gotta lunch date."

On their way down to the car, Harry mentioned what she knew about their new colleague.

"Apparently he's a champion in the martial arts." she said. "So he might behave like a pushover, Dempsey, but he's pretty handy in a fight, I understand."

"Well he 'ain't _sweet _then!" he said, shaking his head "Sweet, my ass. I hate that expression for a man!"

He opened the passenger door for her.

"See? You can be sweet at times too." she said, smiling lovingly as she got into the car.

"Get outta here!" he replied, slamming the door, yet grinning at her laughing face.

The news bulletins went out on TV and radio for Rupert to get in touch regarding Giles's murder, but nothing came of them.

Billie heard them though.

She was in her bedsit listening to Radio 1 when the news came on. And it began to dawn on her, that it was only a matter of time before Rupert would speak to the authorities. In his innocence, he would tell them about her, one thing would lead to another and before she knew it, she'd be hauled back to prison for the rest of her life.

That wasn't going to happen.

If it was a choice between a life in jail or a life with Rupert, there was no contest. There was no choice. She was going to have to dump him.

As the enormity of it hit her, she broke down in floods of tears. For the first time in her young life she'd known what it is like to be in love. Now, that would just have to become a memory.

She recalled what her mother once said, in a lighter moment, after her father had walked out on them both. 'It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all', quoting, without knowing it, Lord Tennyson's famous saying.

For the rest of that day and for most of the night she cried and cried, until by dawn she was exhausted. She fell asleep then, her despair triggering the nightmares from her childhood until she suddenly awoke in mid morning, dripping in perspiration.

She hauled herself out of bed and stood under a cold shower, the water striking her body like an avalanche of icy darts, painful yet strangely exhilarating.

Shivering, she wrapped herself in a towel and put her mind to work. Instead of a present for Rupert she decided she'd treat herself to driving lessons, pass her test and buy a car.

Having dressed, attached her blue eye lenses and pulled on her short, black wig, she wandered onto the high street and walked into a shop advertising special rates for first timers looking to learn to drive.

Booking six, hour long lessons at half price, she was told an instructor would be available that afternoon at three o'clock, which she accepted. The first lesson taught her the basics and seeing as she had chosen the option of only driving automatic cars, there was a lot of time saved in trying to perfect the balance between clutch and gears.

She was a fast learner and soon mastered the correct sequences in moving off, reversing, checking her mirrors regularly, in fact everything, including the emergency stop. By the end of the week, after all six lessons, she had made such good progress that the instructor was confident she'd pass her practical test with ease.

"Here." he said, handing her a copy of the Highway Code. "You're not going to have trouble with your actual driving test, so long as you remember everything I've taught you. But you need to study this booklet because the examiner will ask you a series of questions and you can fail overall if you don't get them right."

Billie was able to memorise most of what she read and visited the instructor again for a mock exam. She passed without a fault, so was booked for her actual test the following Monday.

Meanwhile, Harry and Dempsey had spent the week unable to make any headway with their case.

Harry had met Angela and enjoyed a delicious lunch, bringing her up to date with how her relationship with Dempsey had blossomed into full blown love. Like Joyce, Angela was amazed at the change in Harry and delighted that she'd found true peace at last.

When Dempsey showed up to collect Harry, they'd beckoned him in and, over coffee, Angela remarked that one could still almost get a shock from the electricity sparking between them, as had been the case when she'd first seen them together in the night club.

Rupert still hadn't come forward by Saturday evening after the bulletins had finished, so they called at his penthouse address and spoke to the guard. As an employee of a private security firm, he was one of a team who oversaw the protection of the exclusive apartments and their inhabitants.

Showing him their badges, he led them to his office.

"When were you on duty this week?" asked Harry. "We're particularly interested in whether you've seen Rupert Barrington-Smythe recently."

"Ah yes Mr Rupert." said the guard. "Nice bloke. Keeps 'imself to 'imself. I was here Monday to Wednesday, but, no matter, we keep a list of the comin's and goin's of all the residents, Sergeant. Now let me see."

He opened a large red ledger and scanned the notes that were meticulously written down on a daily basis.

"Here we are." he said, reading directly from the page. " 'Left here Thursday night, alone and in a hurry' it says."

"Don't it say where?" asked Dempsey.

"No 'fraid not." replied the guard. "Usually people will stop and tell us how long they'll be, like, but Mr Rupert didn't."

"And he's not been back, obviously." said Harry.

"No, if 'e 'ad we'd know about it."

"Don't the residents leave a forwarding address or a 'phone number in case of emergencies?" asked Dempsey.

"Er, yes they do, one moment." said the guard, looking at the ledger again. "Mr and Mrs T Barrington-Smythe, 'The Fieldings', Linton Avenue, Claverdon, Warwickshire. Telephone 01564 265871"

Dempsey wrote it down.

"Ok thanks for your help."

"My pleasure." said the guard as they left.

Once back home, Harry tried the number only for it to ring out constantly. Not even an answerphone kicked in.

Rupert didn't know whether he was screwed, bored or countersunk such was his mixed emotions. On the one hand he hadn't slept properly for days, on another he had his mothers constant tears to deal with, on yet another he was wondering why Billie hadn't tried to reach him and to cap it all his father had slipped into a coma.

He'd got wind of the police wanting him to get in touch, one of the nurses had heard the radio bulletin, but since it was probably to do with Giles's death, he didn't see what help he could be, so waived it for the time being. His father's illness and mother's distress was all encompassing right now and took precedence over everything else.

Monday dawned and Billie prepared for her driving test, ensuring she dressed down and not provocatively. Although she was the most nervous she'd ever been, she handled the car perfectly, answered all the questions correctly and consequently passed her test with flying colours.

Elated, she went home and changed into her white mini skirt, dark blue T shirt and brown cowboy boots.

Knowing that she looked extremely sexy, she reckoned this may help in any bargaining over the price of a car she may find.

Taking a cab to a large used car dealership, she began browsing the multitude of second hand models on display.

Within five minutes a young salesman had joined her.

"Lookin' for anything special luv?" he asked, his eyes wandering all over her.

"Yeah, must be automatic and low miles." she answered, aware of his roving eye.

After having taken it for a test drive, during which the young saleman spent more time staring at her naked thighs than the road ahead, she finally decided upon a nearly new, metallic silver, Ford Escort Mark 3, low mileage, with an automatic gearbox and a screen price of £9,999.

"I'll give you nine grand for it." she said, smiling sweetly at him.

"I don't think my boss will accept that." said the sales lad.

"I'd better 'ave a word with the organ grinder then, 'adn't I." she replied and was shown into the sales managers office.

He was unattractive, overweight and a lech. And Billie was going to milk it for all she was worth!

Sitting opposite him and crossing her legs, she repeated her offer.

"No luv, can't get it that low." he replied, his eyes darting over her figure. "It owes me more than that. We've already dropped the price from ten and a half grand. Then I've gotta tax it. Tell you what, nine seven fifty, how's that!"

She opened her bag and took out an envelope with nine thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds in cash inside.

"Nine two fifty cash. Taxed!" she said, slapping it down on his desk. "'An that's me wiped out."

"You got a boyfriend?" he asked.

"Might 'ave, why?" she replied, knowing exactly what was coming next.

"Well, if you're up for a bit of fun on the side, I think we can come to an arrangement today." he said.

"What sort of arrangement." she said.

"Come on, gel. Don't 'ave to spell it out, do I?"

"Nah, I know just what you want." she said, looking seductively at him. "Nine grand and it's a deal."

She could almost hear the cogs in his brain grinding round between lust or loss.

He'd decided. Lust won.

_She'd _decided that whatever arrangement they were to make, she wasn't going to honour it.

"Okay, it's a deal." he said. "I'll get it taxed now, it'll be in our name 'cos you don't have any insurance details with you, do you."

"No." she said, she wasn't intending to insure it anyway. "Tax it the garage's name, that'll be ok."

When he came back, he wanted all her details for the sales invoice so she gave him a complete set of false information.

"Now that's all sorted, where shall we meet?" he asked, hardly able to contain himself.

"I dunno, where do you suggest?" she replied, smiling at him.

"Meet me back here at eight o'clock tonight." he said, images of all sorts in his head. "I'll be lockin' up then, 'an we could take it from there."

A mechanic came into the office, dropped a set of keys on the desk, wolf whistled at Billie, then grinned at her and left.

"Your carriage awaits, madam." said the sales manager, picking up the keys with a pathetic flourish, then showed her outside to her new car.

She quickly got inside, started it up, waved and drove away, laughing as she looked in her rear view mirror at the sales managers face, as it dawned on him that he'd just been stitched up like a kipper.


	9. Chapter 9

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Eight.**

At the same time Billie was enjoying her new found independence, Mr Barrington-Smythe passed away and, not only did Rupert have his own grief to deal with, he had his mothers too.

In addition, he couldn't understand why Billie hadn't tried to contact him and it was only when he finally called into Edgbaston police station in response to the bulletins, did it dawn on him that, apart from her christian name, he actually knew nothing about her.

SI-10 had made it a priority to all police stations, that Rupert was being urgently sought and if he did suddenly show up, to patch him through to them immediately.

Dempsey took the call.

"Is that Rupert Smythe?" he asked, never able to get to grips with double-barrelled English surnames. Harry looked aghast at him.

"Barrington-Smythe actually." replied Rupert. "Who am I speaking to?"

"This is Lieutenant Dempsey." he replied. "We've been tryin' to get hold of you for over a week. Radio bulletins, TV appeals but you never responded. Any reason why?"

"My father has just died, Lieutenant." said Rupert, distress beginning to creep into his voice. "I've been by his side in hospital all the time."

"Oh shoot! I'm real sorry to hear that." replied Dempsey, embarrassed, Harry looking quizzically at him. "Er, are you okay to answer a cuppla questions or would you rather we do this later?"

"No I'm alright Lieutenant." replied Rupert. "I presume this is about my friend Giles Courtney?"

"Yeah it is." confirmed Dempsey. "Can you tell me exactly what happened, as far as you are concerned, after he met up with you in JuJu's bar in Chelsea?"

Rupert related, in detail, the sequence of events.

"So you left Mr Courtney with your girlfriend, while you went to get some money?"

"Yes."

"So who exactly _is _your girlfriend?"

"Her name is Billie and I've known her for a couple of weeks."

"Is that it?" asked Dempsey. "What does she look like?"

"Short blonde hair, well it used to be long and black, green eyes, hour glass figure, about five foot five in height, has a London accent?"

"What did you mean, it used to be long and black?" asked Dempsey, silently beckoning Harry over so she could listen in.

"I treated her to a make-over."

"Why?"

"She wanted to be a blonde."

Harry and Dempsey exchanged glances.

"Ok. Where does she live?"

"I don't know." replied Rupert.

"What's her 'phone number?"

"I don't know."

"What's her last name?"

"I don't know."

"How old is she?"

"I'd guess mid twenties?"

"But you don't know."

"No."

"You don't know much do you." said Dempsey. "When you seein' her again?"

"I don't know that either." replied Rupert. "I haven't spoken to her since my father went into hospital. She had promised to call me there, but I haven't heard from her at all."

"Sheesh!" said Dempsey, rubbing the back of his neck, more frustrated than ever. "Well look sir, give the guys there in the station your written statement and if your girlfriend gets in touch, tell her we need to speak to her urgently."

"Why?" asked Rupert.

"Why? 'Cos she could've been the last person Giles Courtney ever saw."

"Are you saying she murdered him!?"

"We won't know that 'till we find her and speak to her." said Dempsey and before replacing the receiver said. "And I'm real sorry your Pop has died."

"Thank you Lieutenant." replied Rupert. "I'm sorry too."

"Oh my God, poor Rupert." said Harry. "His father's gone and now his girlfriend's disowned him too, by the sound of it."

"Yeah, and it's lookin' very likely she could be our killer!" he said.

For Rupert, it felt as though his world had collapsed around him. He had his fathers funeral to arrange, an inconsolable and distraught mother to deal with and a suspicion that the girl he'd fallen in love with, and missed like hell, had abandoned him and was clearly suspected of murdering his old friend into the bargain!

He dismissed that thought. Billie was no murderer!

Billie, however, felt liberated. All of a sudden she could go anywhere she pleased. No longer restricted to local bus routes, paying for cabs or travelling, squeezed like a sardine, on the Underground, she could spread her wings and get out of the city.

Stopping to fill up with petrol, she bought a road map of England and, when back in her bedsit, poured over it, planning a trip out.

She'd liked the countryside in Berkshire, noted by her when Rupert had taken her for dinner in Bray, so decided to drive into the county and explore it the next day.

Her relationship with him had ignited the, otherwise, dormant passion in her and, not having been with him for a while now, she'd started to miss the physical contact and the pleasure it had brought her.

So, although she was planning to cruise through the countryside, she also thought she might keep a lookout for a potential liason with a male if she found him attractive enough.

The day dawned warm and sunny, so she dressed in lace underwear, a short, pink summer skirt, white blouse, buttoned at the front and her pair of kitten heel leather shoes. Pulling on her black wig and fitting her blue eye lenses, she checked herself in the mirror, deciding to undo some buttons on her blouse so the swell of her bosom was more prominent.

Placing the knife in her handbag and satisfied with her appearance, she set out on her journey.

Back at SI-10, Harry and Dempsey were chatting at their desks.

"So where do we go with this now, Dempsey?"

"We put out another bulletin?" he said. "This time with a new description of this Billie?"

"I don't know about that." cautioned Harry.

"No? Why not?" he asked.

"Think about it, Dempsey." said Harry. "Let's assume Billie _is_ our killer. A brunette pawns a gold Rolex, once belonging to Dave Callaghan. So we put out an indentikit picture. Not a good one, I'll admit. Ok? You with me, so far?"

"Go on." said Dempsey, all ears.

"She sees the picture, panics and persuades Rupert to give her a make over where she turns into a blonde! They go to JuJu's for a drink, Giles breezes in, annoys her somehow and whilst Rupert's gone to get some money, she kills Giles."

"Hell fire, annoys her somehow!? If that's true she's some screwed up broad!" he exclaimed, frowning. "She doesn't just kill 'em does she! She castrates 'em, draws a watch on their foreheads, leaves bundles of dough and takes their watches! And, if you're right and we put out another indentikit pic, she'll simply alter her appearance again."

"Yes! That's exactly what she'll do!" replied Harry. "She's psychopathic, but like all psychopaths, she's manipulative and deceitful and cunning."

"So how in the hell do we catch her!?" asked Dempsey.

"God, I don't know!" sighed Harry.

"There could be a way." suggested Dempsey.

"Yes? How?" asked Harry, looking at him expectantly.

"The only living person we know who knows her up close is your pal, Rupert." explained Dempsey. "Now, she may be able to alter her hair style and colour, but she's also got a striking figure. Every description we've had, mentions that. And even if she was bald with a moustache, no man forgets a sexy female shape."

"Is that right?" asked Harry, amused. "So if I shaved my head and grew a beard you'd still recognise me?"

"Damn right, angel!" he said, grinning. "I'd know that beautiful body of yours _anywhere_!"

She levelled one of her classic, cool, loving glances at him that said 'for Gods sake take me to bed!'

"Buy me lunch then, Romeo." she said instead, but added in a whisper. "And keep your strength up, you're going to need it!"

Chuckling, Dempsey held out his hand which she grabbed and they disappeared out of the office.

"They're a real together couple, aren't they." remarked Jon, still unable to get over Harry's looks.

Chas and Jamie exchanged glances and grinning, shook their heads. Jon was merely one of many in the SI-10 office who'd found Harry dazzling over the years.

Billie meantime, had discovered a picture postcard pub, ivy covered, thatched roof and low wooden beams in the bar. She ordered half a lager and a bowl of fries, taking them out to a table to eat and enjoy in the warm sunshine.

Every male head had turned to look at her when she'd walked in, and one, in a group of four friends, couldn't take his eyes off her.

He decided to try his luck. Grabbing his pint of bitter, he strolled outside and went straight up to her.

"Hi." he said.

"Hi." she replied, appraising him quickly and liking what she saw.

"May I sit down?" he asked.

"Sure, take a seat." she said, leaning a little across the table as he did so, her cleavage in full view.

"I haven't seen you here before." he said, already aroused.

"No, I'm on a drive around. Just bought meself a new car an' tryin' it out."

"Oh I see." he replied. "Where are you from?"

"London." she answered.

"Huh, whereabouts? London's a big place."

"Just London. What's yer name?"

"Billy. What's yours."

"Billie." she said, laughing.

"Really? How're you spelling it?"

"B.I.L.L.I.E." she said.

"Oh right." he said.

They spent the next two hours chatting to each other, both of them aware of the others sexuality, until Billy suggested they go to his cottage for a coffee. Pretty much as soon as they walked through the door, they were undressing each other frantically, not even going upstairs such was their heightened passion for each other.

Later, lying naked on his sofa, she noted dusk was approaching and announced she was going home before it got dark, Billy imploring her to stay the night. But her needs had been satisfied, so she gently but firmly told him she wanted to leave.

Reluctantly he let her go, but not before she'd given him a totally fictitious telephone number in order to placate him.

On her way back she came across a car parked at the edge of the road and a man frantically waving for her to stop. Walking round to her drivers window, which she wound down, he told her he'd broken down and needed a lift to a telephone box so he could call his breakdown service.

She agreed to help him and unlocked the passenger door.

"You live round here?" he asked, settling into his seat, unable to take his eyes from her bare thighs and becoming aroused when her legs parted now and then as she operated the accelerator and footbrake.

"No." she replied.

Noticing her unbuttoned blouse and exposed cleavage, he wrongly assumed she was on the game and had probably just left a client. Reaching across, he slid his hand in between her legs, but as he did so, his gold Rolex caught her eye.

The familiar panic began, the screaming images possessing her brain and the urge to kill him all encompassing.

She left his hand where it was and didn't flinch as his fingers worked their way into her underwear, the vivid memories of another set of fingers, long ago, doing the very same, the pain of it flooding her mind, her anger rapidy approaching boiling point.

She turned off the road and into a narrow lane, parking the car quickly.

"Shall we get in the back?" she said, knowing her handbag was on the rear seat.

"Yeah." he grunted, breathless now.

Once seated, he immediately began undoing her blouse, eager to expose her and bent his head to her when he'd lifted up her brassiere.

At that moment whilst he was busy, she opened her bag, reached for the knife and brought it down swiftly on the exposed nape of his neck, stabbing him continuously, then throwing open the door and pushing him out before the blood reached her seats and her clothes.

She set to work on him and once finished, unbuckled his watch, before drawing her, now familiar, symbol on his forehead.

Rolling his body further into a ditch by the roadside, she jumped back in the car, reversed out onto the main country road and accelerated away, calm now and fulfilled, slamming the Rolling Stones latest album, appropriately entitled 'Dirty Work', into the car's cassette machine.

When she arrived back in Camden Town it was nighttime. Having parked the car, showered and changed into a dressing gown, she studied the Rolex and decided to pay Alfie Bates in Hackney another visit the following day.

Over lunch, Dempsey and Harry were discussing how to get Rupert on board.

"I can't get involved directly, Dempsey." she said. "Otherwise I blow my cover and all my friends will know what I do, and I don't want that."

"That's okay princess." he replied. "Any surveillance work an' I'll cover it with him."

"He's not going to be very approachable right now, seeing as he'll be fully involved with burying his father." said Harry.

"No, until somethin' else shows up, we're gonna have to wait 'til he's back home."

"Why don't we use this window in our work and plan our engagement party, darling?" suggested Harry.

"Yeah sure. When do you have in mind?" asked Dempsey.

"It's going to take a bit of organizing and we need to give the guests enough notice." said Harry. "By the way, who are you going to invite?"

"I dunno, angel." he replied. "I've lost touch with a lot of the guys I used to run around with. I wouldn't know how to reach 'em. I guess my mother might come and maybe Simone?"

"Oh yes, I really liked her." said Harry. "She actually told me you were really fond of me, you know."

"Yeah, well one thing Simone is, is brutally honest." said Dempsey. "No airs or graces, what ya see is what ya get! And there ain't no flies on Simone."

"That's so true of her." agreed Harry. "She was still in love with you, you know, when she suddenly popped up out of nowhere that night."

"Yeah I guess." said Dempsey, grinning at the memory. "But I was in love with you by then and she could see it straight away, 'cept she used 'fond' instead of 'love'."

"She was nobody's fool, James." said Harry, chuckling. "She knew we needed to admit it first, but she still threw in a hint."

"I guess Ma will still be in touch with her." he said. "They were always pretty close."

"Have you actually told your mother yet, that you're engaged to be married?" asked Harry.

"Nope." he said, then added. "We were never that close, Harry. I was to my Pop, but when he died, my ma and I kinda drifted apart."

"That's so sad, James." she said, looking forlorn. "Sons should always be close to their mothers and usually are."

"Yeah? Not me, princess." he said." But I'll call her an' see what she says, huh?"

"Okay." she agreed. "I think August Bank Holiday weekend might be a suitable date. It's about six weeks from now, so enough time for people to organize themselves. I'll call Freddy later and see if he agrees."

"Won't everyone be away then?" asked Dempsey.

"God heavens no." replied Harry. "Roads jammed, resorts packed, flights full of screaming children. No, most of the people I know deliberately stay at home and take advantage of the relative quiet. The Saturday over that weekend will be perfect. The holiday makers will have reached their destinations, so the traffic should be light."

"And everyone has two days to recover!" said Dempsey. "Good planning, honey!"

Later that evening she called Freddy who agreed with the suggested date and offered his help in arranging for the invitations to be printed and despatched. Harry confirmed that she'd compile a list of guests and that she and James would motor up and stay, over the coming weekend.

The next day, Billie drove over to Alfie Bates pawn shop, careful to wear the same black wig as last time.

"'Ello luv." welcomed Alfie. "Got anuvver little gem for me, 'ave yer?"

She nodded and gave him the watch, Alfie doing the usual and inspecting it carefully through his loupe.

"Mmm, quite a tidy piece, darlin'" he said. "Where'd you get it?"

"That's for me to know." she replied, regarding him coolly.

"Huh, you're a cagey one, ain't yer." he said, smiling.

"Eight grand see yer right?" he offered.

"Ten." she replied, sensing he'd pay more.

"Tell yer what, I'll split yer down the middle. Nine grand, cash."

"Okay, deal." she said and watched, excited again as he counted out the money and put it inside an envelope.

"Thanks, see yer." she said and trotted out.

'That's the car paid for' she thought, a wide satisfied smile across her pretty face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Nine.**

'The Butchers Arms' in Dorney Reach, Berkshire, was the name of the attractive pub Billie had visited the previous day and it was now buzzing with speculation as to the whereabouts of the owner of the broken down and abandoned car a mile up the road.

A local copper had spotted it whilst patrolling the area in his panda car early that morning and had radioed the registration number into base. It was registered to a Peter Campbell, aged thirty-eight, of 2, Somerset Gardens, Maidenhead, married with a son and a daughter.

His wife had already contacted her local constabulary, reporting that her husband had failed to come home the previous night, as had been expected. Usually, in missing person cases like this, the police would allow twenty-four hours, at least, before investigating it any further, but not long after her call, Maidenhead police were alerted to her husband's abandoned car, so realised something was amiss.

In addition to house to house calls having be initiated in Dorney Reach, 'The Butchers Arms' had become the focal point, since the police were interviewing everybody who came in.

When the local gentleman farmer and knight of the realm, Sir Christopher Greenwood, had been riding one of his horses along the narrow lane Billie had stopped in, he, from his high elevation, had spotted Peter Campbell's body lying at the bottom of the ditch.

After the police had examined the dead man, it was clear he was another victim of the serial killer at large, and which had garnered such interest in the media already, so it wasn't long before the call came through to SI-10.

Spikings took it.

"DEMPSEY! MAKEPEACE! CHAS! Your undivided in here!" he shouted, after completing the call.

"Yo Chief, what gives!?" replied Dempsey as he and Harry, closely shadowed by Chas, filed into Spikings's office.

"This is SI-10 London, Dempsey, not the NYPD New York!" he growled, forever intolerant of americanisms. "We have a fourth murder and it's beginning to be an embarrassment to this department! And it looks as though our killer is mobile, since there's no other convenient way of getting to Dorney Reach."

"She has a car now?" asked Harry. "Bought, perhaps, with the proceeds of selling the watches."

"A definite possibility, Sergeant." agreed Spikings. "I suggest you and Kojak get over to Dorney Reach and start asking a few questions. A description of the car would be useful."

"Kojak!?" exclaimed Dempsey. "He was bald! And Greek!"

"He was from the Bronx." replied Spikings, smirking and amused he might have struck a nerve. "So that makes you equal in my book."

"Great! 'Cos he was a tough cop who always got his man!" grinned Dempsey.

"Touche" murmured Harry, Chas stifling a laugh.

An hour later saw the Mercedes cruising through the picturesque village and drawing up outside The Butchers Arms, a couple of panda cars stationary in the rear car park .

"What a charming little place." remarked Harry, as she stepped out of the car and surveyed the scene before her. "A village shop selling everything, a sleepy looking petrol station, a beautiful church and this lovely pub, not to mention all these chocolate box cottages."

"Yeah, just the setting for a brutal murder!" replied Dempsey.

"Trust you to obliterate the peaceful moment!" she complained, pushing him forward. "Go on Sherlock, let's see if this pub is as lovely inside as it is out."

Chuckling, Dempsey led the way in to the seventeenth century alehouse and nearly brained himself on a low slung beam.

"Oops!" she giggled behind him.

The pub was very busy. All the male heads swung in Harry's direction when she and Dempsey, rubbing his forehead, walked in, including two policemen who were holding court at a table in the corner.

They flashed their SI-10 badges and asked the coppers if they'd learnt anything new.

"No sir." said Constable Adams. "No-one can remember seeing Mr Campbell come in here, so the assumption is he was just passing through before his car broke down."

Dempsey decided to call for hush, then addressed his quiet, interested audience, holding up his badge so everyone could see he was of some seniority.

"We are 'specially innerested if anyone saw a young woman in here yesterday." he said, loudly. "She'd be 'bout five foot five, in her twenties an' quite striking in looks."

Billy put his hand up.

"Yes I did." he said. " In fact most of us noticed her, but I was the only one who spoke to her."

"Ok, grab a chair, kiddo." said Dempsey, pointing to the empty table next to him, Harry taking a seat, Dempsey sitting down next to her, Billy opposite.

As the general hubbub started up again, Harry asked his full name.

"Billy Clark." he replied. "I live in the village. I rent a cottage just up the road from here."

"Ok Billy what can you tell us 'bout the young broad?" asked Dempsey.

"She walked in here alone during lunchtime and bought a half pint of lager and some chips." he explained. "Then she went outside."

"And?" asked Harry, sensing there was a lot more.

"And then I followed her out." said Billy. "I thought she was really hot, so I fancied chatting her up."

"And did you?" asked Harry.

"Well yes I did." replied Billy. "We got on really well, I liked her a lot."

"Then what?" asked Dempsey.

"We clicked I suppose. And then she came back to my place and one thing led to another."

"So you slept with her." said Harry, Billy nodding. "And did she leave or stay the night?"

"She left." he said, his disappointment still apparent. "Be about eight o'clock or thereabouts."

"Did you get her name?" asked Dempsey.

"Yes. Billie." he replied. "She said she was from London but wouldn't say where. Look, why do you want to know about her? She was gorgeous, I really want to see her again."

"We'll ask the questions, kiddo." said Dempsey. "Did she tell you her surname or give you a telephone number?"

"No, I don't know her surname." replied Billy, "But she gave me her telephone number. I've tried calling it though and it comes up out of order."

"Probably doesn't exist, that's why." said Harry. "Describe how she looked, can you, please."

"She was wearing a short pink skirt and white blouse." he reported.

"What did she look like?" asked Dempsey.

"She had short black hair, lovely blue eyes, and the most fantastic body."

Dempsey and Harry looked at each other with raised eyebrows at the mention of Billie's hair style and eye colour.

"Did you see the car she was driving?"

"No, I didn't. My cottage is less than five minutes from here, so we walked there." replied Billy. "She did say she'd just bought it, though."

"Ok Billy, thanks for your help." said Dempsey.

"If you see her, can you tell her I'd love to meet up?"

"Forget all about her, kiddo." replied Dempsey. "She ain't worth it. Trust me."

Looking dejected, Billy stood up and left them.

"She must have come across Peter Campbell only seconds after his car failed." said Harry, after Billy had gone. "Otherwise, he'd have walked back to this pub for help."

"Yeah 'an I wonder why she didn't turn round and come back here anyway." questioned Dempsey.

"Perhaps she didn't want to bump into Billy." suggested Harry. "After all, she'd clearly used him. If she can spend an entire afternoon having sex with a guy she'd only just met, then murder another in the same timeframe, it really does show we're dealing with a sick, shattered mind."

"We'd better start thinkin' about tracing the car she's bought." said Dempsey.

"That could take a lifetime!" said Harry. "We've no idea if it's a new one or second hand, or she could have lied about it."

"Whaddya mean?" puzzled Dempsey.

"She could have just rented it for the day." replied Harry.

"So, real needle in a haystack stuff, huh?"

"Yes and we're trying to find two needles now!" sighed Harry.

They were about to leave the table when a scruffy looking individual in his early fifties, held out his hand to Dempsey.

"'Scuse me chief." he said, before coughing. "Christian Robins, Maidenhead Observer. Can I ask you some questions?"

Since there were no reporting restrictions on the case, Dempsey hadn't much choice.

"Yeah, whaddya wanna know?" he said, shaking Robin's's hand and sitting down again, Harry too.

"Any idea who the murderer is?" asked Robins, coughing again. "Sorry, it's the fags."

"We've got nothin' absolutely concrete, but are pretty certain its a female in her mid twenties." said Dempsey. "We're workin' hard to find her."

"Elusive is she?" asked Robins. "Also handy with that knife of hers, I understand."

"Sounds to me you don't need us." said Harry. "You know as much as we do."

"So why haven't you caught her yet?" he asked, spearing straight to the heart of the case.

"Ah, the sixty four thousand dollar question, huh?" said Dempsey. "So far there have been no witnesses, her appearance is changin' all the time and her personal details are falsified. There ain't nothin' more I can tell you, chum."

"Who exactly are you two?" asked Robins, lighting a cigarette and coughing immediately.

"Police, that's who." replied Dempsey, tiring of this, and glaring at the reporter as he, followed by Harry, stood up. "'An we gotta go, we've a murderer on the loose."

"Can I have your names?" asked Robins, taking a drag, the inevitable cough following.

"No." replied Dempsey, flatly, then pointing to his fag packet on the table. "'An I should give those things up chum - bad for ya health!"

On their way back to SI-10 they stopped off at the crime scene but gleaned nothing from it.

Back in the office they considered their options. There were only two. The first was enlisting Ruperts help, but that was a non starter for the time being, seeing as he was busy with his father's funeral arrangements.

The second was tracking down the car and that was going to involve an awful lot of legwork.

"Dempsey." said Harry, sipping her coffee and staring at the soles of his trainers, his feet in their usual place up on his desk. "If she's driving now, who taught her?"

"Now there's a thought!" he replied, wiggling a matchstick around in his mouth. "She's either gone through a driving school or someone she knows. If it's the latter we're sunk, but we can at least try the other."

"Yes and we might as well start with Camden Town." suggested Harry.

"Why princess?"

"It's as good as anywhere else." argued Harry. "And please take that thing out of your mouth or I'll buy you a dummy to suck instead!"

He took it out.

"I can think of nicer things I'd like to suck." he said, winking at her.

She opened her mouth to answer him but thought better of it. Now wasn't the time or place, so she just fixed him with one of her cool, seductive gazes!

It wasn't long before their line of enquiry bore fruit. There weren't too many driving schools in the area and by the end of that day, they'd landed on the one where Billie was taught. It may well have given them a breakthrough, had it not been for the fact that Billie, now flush with twenty thousands pounds again, had decided to find a one bedroomed flat in another area of London.

After contacting the authorities and spinning some cock and bull story about having won thousands of pounds on a game of chance, her grants were terminated. Seeing as that also redacted her true identity, she was now totally incognito.

Scouring the London Evening Standard, she found several suitable, privately owned, apartments and the one she settled on was exactly what she wanted. Owned by a businessman who had been seconded by his company to run their Paris office, he'd decided to keep his flat and rent it out. And he was in a hurry.

Billie was perfect for him.

Believing her story that she had been living in Spain for the last few years and therefore checking out her references would be both time consuming and a pain in the neck, he accepted her without question, especially as she was looking at her sexiest. And he fancied her on sight.

He even accepted that she hadn't opened a bank account yet so would collect her rent in person and in cash the following month. He also considered leaving this arrangement in place, thinking she may be up for paying him in kind sometimes.

So, within days, she had moved out of her basic, council owned bedsit and into a fully furnished apartment in Ealing. A garage came with it too.

In Camden Town, Dempsey and Harry were elated that her hunch had proven accurate, but were soon brought back to earth when all the personal details Billie had given to the driving school, turned out to be false.

They were back at square one and back at SI-10.

"I guess we'd better get our walkin' boots on and start trawlin' the car dealers." said Dempsey.

"Okay, so where do you suggest we start?" asked Harry. "New or used cars?"

"Could be either, we've no way of tellin'" replied Dempsey, putting his hand in his pocket and bringing out a ten pence piece. "Heads it's new, tails it's used."

He flicked the coin into the air, caught it and slapped it down onto the back of his hand.

"Tails. So we start with used." he said. "Biggest firms first."

"Ok, so let's begin with those near Camden Town." suggested Harry. "We've always chosen there as a starting point."

"Yeah, good as any. Let's go, angel."

They spent the week visiting numerous garages and, although they didn't know it, actually called in to the very dealership where Billie had bought her Ford Escort.

Trouble was, the sales manager had just been sacked through gross misconduct, having been accused of sexual harrassment by many of the female staff. His replacement hadn't been appointed yet and the sales department's filing system was a complete mess, a further mitigating reason as to his swift departure. However, the Sales Director assured Dempsey and Harry that as soon as he'd got the department's records into order, he'd contact them.

"How long will that take?" asked Harry.

"Could be a few weeks." came the reply. "Our accounts department is finding all sorts of anomolies between invoices and sales figures and the stock take we've carried out just doesn't tally. It could be that the worthless idiot was selling some cars and pocketing the entire proceeds, thus no invoice actually exists! He's heading for court, make no mistake!"

They wished him the best of luck and left.

Meanwhile, Billie was thoroughly enjoying herself. She was delighted with her new home and had been busy bringing a feminine touch to her surroundings, adding a couple of tall, free standing indoor plants, together with smaller potted versions and several vases of fresh flowers to the place.

She was also buying the 'Evening Standard' on a regular basis and had seen the report of Peter Campbells death, reading with interest that the authorities weren't making any progress in finding the serial killer responsible for his and three other murders.

She also spotted, in the gossip column, a picture of Rupert and a short piece on his father's recent passing away. Seeing him again, even in a grainy black and white photograph, caused her heart to skip a beat and she felt tears begin to well up. She obviously still loved him, but forced the feeling aside.

Nevertheless, she still cut the photograph out of the newspaper and put it, folded in two, in her purse.

During the day she'd seen another billboard advertisement for 'Tramp' offering the same open night that coming Sunday. Knowing, through the newspaper report, that Rupert was up in Birmingham with his mother and dealing with his fathers funeral, she realised there was no danger of him being there, so decided to go.

Friday evening saw Harry and Dempsey travelling up to Winfield Hall to spend the weekend with Freddy and start the ball rolling towards their engagement party.

"We need to get our skates on, darling." said Freddy as they sipped their chilled champagne on the terrace and watched the dusk turn gently into night. "August Bank Holiday is in five weeks from now."

"Yes I know Daddy." replied Harry, glancing at the gardens as the hidden lights switched themselves on. "We've been bogged down in our current murder case, but I have managed to put a guest list together."

"Good." replied Freddy, smiling at them both. "Because I've already had the invitations printed."

"Oh let's see." said Harry, excited, knowing they would be perfect.

Indeed they were. Printed on expensive cream coloured card and embossed in gold script, with matching cream envelopes, they oozed class with no expense spared.

"Thank you, Freddy." she said, thrilled with them and hugging him tightly. "They're just right."

"Leave your guest list with me." he said. "I'll see that the invitations are posted, first class by Monday night. I know how busy you must be so I'll field the replies and liase with you in the meantime."

"That's a real help, Freddy, thanks." said Dempsey.

"Don't mention it." he said, beaming. "Now, are you both ready for dinner?"

On Sunday night, Billie was looking stunning.

Having been shopping the previous day she was wearing a new mini dress in white lace, off the shoulder with flared sleeves. She'd also added to her wig collection and now possessed a long one in yellow blonde that tumbled down to between her shoulder blades in gentle, thick waves.

Wearing it now, along with her lenses, to go to 'Tramp', she had transformed herself from a natural green-eyed brunette to a natural looking blue-eyed blonde.

And it had been a while since she'd 'bedded' Billy.

Her physical needs were, once more, to the fore and, depending upon his choice of watch, would determine whether her eventual intended target would enjoy a night of urgent, unforgettable passion or one that would be his last.


	11. Chapter 11

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Ten.**

Hugo Duncan was thirty years old, single and eligible and a director of his fathers property development company. He lived in a two bedroom apartment near Knightsbridge and drove a black Porsche 911 Turbo.

He was the epitome of the tall, dark, handsome batchelor and never short of an attractive lady with whom to spend his leisure time. His close friend, Charles Davis had persuaded him to go to 'Tramp' that Sunday night, just for fun and to see what female 'talent' may show up.

Both members anyway, they timed their arrival in the club at ten-thirty, knowing that by then, the place would be buzzing.

After they'd been served their drinks, they scanned the room.

Billie had been there since nine o'clock and, although she'd danced with a few guys, hadn't been especially taken with any of them. She was sitting alone, drinking her gin and tonic, when Hugo walked up to her and asked if she'd like to dance.

Hugo had spotted her on the dance floor and soaked up her shapely legs, trim waist, tight buttocks and full bosom, all accentuated by her tight fitting lace mini dress. If that wasn't enough to attract him, when he saw her face, he was hooked

'My God, what a stunner!' he thought.

Charles too had seen her and announced he was about to cut in on the fellow she was dancing with.

Hugo put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Oh no you don't, old boy, she's Hugo's!" he said and waited patiently while she finished dancing, intending to step in, if she remained on the dance floor.

She didn't. He watched her take her seat, then walked over.

When Billie looked up into his vivid blue eyes, she was equally hooked and fancied him on sight.

"I'd love to, yeah." she said, taking his profferred hand, feeling a spark of electricity shoot through her wrist.

As they walked onto the dance floor, Spandau Ballet's 'True' started playing, prompting Hugo to put an arm around her waist and take her hand in his, pulling her to him and swaying with her to the seductive rhythm.

The effect he had on her was immediate and, as far as she was concerned, nothing existed in that packed room except the two of them.

When 'Waiting for a Girl Like You' by 'Foreigner' followed 'True', Hugo almost felt it applied to her right at that moment.

To say they had made an immediate impact on each other was an understatement.

After the ballads had been replaced by more up tempo tracks, they returned to her table, finished their drinks and, without another word, walked out and took a cab back to Hugo's apartment, their disgarded clothes leaving a trail into his bedroom.

Billie reached heights of lovemaking she'd never experienced before, even with Rupert and, for the second time in her life, felt she was falling in love. Anyone watching from afar would have told her that with Rupert it was first love, with Hugo it was pure lust.

No matter, for Billie it was love.

Their passion temporarily abated as dawn broke.

"Do you know something?" said Hugo, as she lay entwined in his arms.

"What?" she said.

"I don't even know your name!"

"It's...Charlie, short for Charlotte." she said, not knowing why she'd lied but some inner voice told her she should.

"Hi Charlie, I'm Hugo."

"I'm _very_ pleased to have met you, Hugo." she said, moving her hand down to him once more, her heart beating faster as her passion soared again.

By mid morning, his telephone was ringing, his father on the other end wanting to know where the hell he was.

"Sorry Pa, I'm running late. I'm on my way." he said and replacing the receiver, continued. "Sorry Charlie, I have to go to work. Can I see you tonight? I'd like to take you to dinner. There's a cracking Italian restaurant just a few minutes walk from here."

"Ok, I'd like that. I'll meet you there if you like." she offered.

"No, I'd rather you came here first." he said, his intentions obvious. "Perhaps we'll have hors d'oeuvres before we leave. Seven o'clock would be perfect."

"Hmmm." she replied, not knowing what hors d'oeuvres meant, but guessing. "I think that'll do nicely."

She took a cab back to her flat and ran a hot bath, soaking in the water until it went cold, her memory full of the ectasy she'd experienced all night and half the morning, yet hungry for more.

While Dempsey and Harry were finishing their Sunday roast at Winfield Hall, Abbott tapped on the door.

"Yes Abbott." said Freddy.

"A call for Miss Harriet, your Lordship." replied Abbott. "A Miss Angela."

"Oh, tell her I'll be right there." said Harry. "I wonder what she wants?"

"You ain't gonna know 'till you ask her." said Dempsey, grinning.

"You'd never believe he's a detective would you Daddy." she replied, taking a spoon and tapping him on his forehead with it.

"Ouch! Mind my bump!" said Dempsey, ducking in case she delivered a second blow.

"Oh sorry, darling." giggled Harry. "Is that the one you got when you forgot to duck the other day?"

"That'll teach me!" said Dempsey grinning, then leaned out to smack her backside but missed as she shimmied out of his reach and left the room, laughing.

"My, you two are happier that ever, aren't you, James." beamed Freddy. "It's a joy to behold."

"Yeah, we are." agreed Dempsey, smiling at him. "It just gets better every day."

Harry shut the door to Freddy's study and picked up the receiver.

"Angela! Hi!"

"Harry, I've tracked you down at last!" said Angela. "Listen, I've met the most divine man and I want you and James to meet him."

"Oh really!?" replied Harry, somewhat surprised. "Why? I mean, you don't usually want my approval."

"No I know, darling." she said. "But I think he could be _the one_!"

"How long have you known him?" asked Harry, intrigued.

"About four weeks."

"Four weeks!?" repeated Harry, shocked. "That's no time at all, Angela."

"I know, I know!" she admitted, then sounding coy said. "But we haven't been out of each others sight in all that time, if you get my drift."

"Angela!" said Harry, firmly. "You're one of my closest friends, so I'm going to be brutally honest. How do you know it's love and not lust!?"

"Well we haven't been , you know, _doing it _non stop!" explained Angela. "We've talked non stop too. I mean, in between, that is."

"Angela, you're one on it's own." laughed Harry. "Ok, James and I'd love to meet him. What's his name, by the way?"

"Oliver, Ollie for short." replied Angela. "He's one of the Murray's, the publishing dynasty."

"Okay, so where shall we meet?" asked Harry.

"Why not Romano's in Knightsbridge. where we went the other day for lunch." suggested Angela. "It was lovely, wasn't it. Tomorrow night? About nine?"

"Yes, just the job." agreed Harry. "See you then. And Ollie."

"Can't wait!" replied Angela, clearly excited. "Bye."

Harry returned to the dining room, two expectant faces watching her as she took her seat.

"That was Angela." she said, Freddy and Dempsey looking at each other.

"Yes we know." they both said in unison.

"What'd she want, angel?"

"She's met a new man and wants us to vet him."

"Who is he, darling?" asked Freddy.

"Ollie, Oliver Murray, part of the Murray publishing empire." explained Harry.

"I'll say one thing for her, she doesn't do things by halves, does she?" remarked Freddy. "That family are amongst the wealthiest in the country."

"So when are we meetin' up?" asked Dempsey.

"Tomorrow at nine. In Romano's." replied Harry.

"Cool." said Dempsey, smiling. "I love Italian food. It's like home from home."

Billie was determined to look as sexy as possible, yet not overdressed, so she chose her white leather mini skirt, dark blue, tight fitting T shirt with a low cut brassiere underneath and light brown cowboy boots.

Ensuring the knife was in her clutch bag, she checked herself in the mirror and satisfied, took the lift to the main road and hailed a cab for Knightsbridge.

Hugo was still in his dressing gown when he answered the door, having just stepped out of the shower. Billie sidled up to him, slid her hands inside the bathrobe and kissed him passionately on the lips. He lifted her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom.

An hour later, while Hugo dressed, Billie locked herself in the bathroom and took a quick shower, holding the shower head separately while she washed, so as not to wet her hair. She'd thought about removing it, but elected not to, in case she didn't replace it in the same way. She was glad she'd bought the most expensive, quality wigs seeing as how hers had stayed in place during her rampant lovemaking.

By eight-thirty they were sitting at a secluded corner table, ordering pre dinner drinks and studying the extensive menu.

As per usual, Dempsey was ready before Harry and sipping a Jack Daniels in the lounge while he waited for her to make an entrance. He wore a light blue open neck shirt, dark blue trousers with a black leather belt and matching loafers, while his cream, single breasted, double vented, lightweight summer jacket rested across the back of the sofa.

"You ready yet, honey?" he called.

"Yes, nearly." she replied from their bedroom. "Be there in a mo, darling."

It was worth the wait.

When she walked through, his heart skipped a beat.

Dressed in a turquoise, summer dress, cut straight across the top of her chest with thin straps over each shoulder and pinched at the waist, it finished four inches above the knee. With the natural tan to her skin needing the minumum of make-up, she looked a picture of health, her ocean blue eyes prominent in her beautiful face, her light pink lips framing her heart shaped mouth.

"Honey, you never fail to dazzle me." he said, drawing her to him and kissing her.

"And you, Mr Dempsey, never fail to turn me on." she replied, kissing him back.

They arrived at Romano's dead on nine o'clock and were shown to their table for four, Angela and Ollie not having arrived yet.

Hugo saw them walk in.

"My goodness, it's Harriet." he said, standing up. "Excuse me one moment Charlie, I've just seen an old friend."

He strolled over to Harry's table..

"Harriet?" he said.

She glanced up at him, then looked again.

"Hello Hugo, my goodness, I've not seen you for ages." said Harry, smiling up at him. "This is my fiance, James Dempsey."

"Your fiance!?" replied Hugo, clearly surprised, but smiling. "Hello James, pleased to meet you. Congratulations, you've succeeded where others have failed miserably!"

"Hi Hugo." replied Dempsey, also smiling. "Good to meet you too. She was a pushover really."

"Forehead. Spoon." Harry said, giggling at him.

"Sorry?" said Hugo.

"Private joke." replied Harry. "So who are you dating now? Anyone special or still playing the field?"

"Er, if you'd asked me that twenty-four hours ago, I'd have said the latter." replied Hugo. "But right now? I may want this one to last a while."

"Oh, so who's the lucky lady?" asked Harry.

Hugo pointed Charlie out and waved. She waved back.

"That's my lady. Charlie is her name." Hugo informed them.

"Yes, she looks very pretty, Hugo." said Harry. "And look, we're throwing our engagement party at Winfield Hall, August bank holiday Saturday. Please come and bring Charlie with you."

"I'd love to." replied Hugo. "And I'm sure Charlie would too."

"Marvellous." replied Harry. "Are you still at the same address round the corner from here?"

"I am." confirmed Hugo.

"Okay, expect an invitation in the next couple of days."

"Thanks, see you then." he said, kissing Harry's cheek, then shaking Dempsey's hand. "See you again, James."

"Sure." said Dempsey, part standing as Hugo left. "Nice guy."

"Yes, quite the ladies man." replied Harry. "Not my type, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't." lied Dempsey.

"Fibber!" replied Harry, picking up a spoon.

"Hit me with that 'an I'll put you across my knee, pull up that dress and spank ya ass, right here, right now!" said Dempsey, playfully.

"Ooh promises, promises." giggled Harry. "I'd rather you wait until we got home though!"

Angela and Ollie rocked up then.

"Harry, James!" she said. "Soo sorry we're late!"

After the introductions were made the four of them settled down to ordering drinks and studying the menu.

"Angela." said Harry, nodding her head in Hugo's direction when Angela glanced up at her. "Hugo Duncan's over there with a new girlfriend."

"Really?" said Angela, glancing round and waving at him when he acknowledged her. "Oh yes, she looks par for the course. Blonde and blue eyed."

That description suddenly made Dempsey turn round and look for the first time.

"Pretty isn't she." said Harry, as she watched Dempsey.

"Yeah." he said, noting the look in her eye. "Can't hold a candle to you, princess."

"Ah, doesn't he say all the right things." said Angela, smiling broadly at them. "Now Harry you haven't shown me your ring!"

Harry proudly fanned her hand so that Angela and Ollie could see it.

"Wow! That's beautiful!" exclaimed Angela. "I don't think I've ever seen such a dazzler! And what did she buy you, James?"

Dempsey slid his jacket sleeve up, exposing his Rolex.

"Now that's what I call a watch!" remarked Ollie. "You have taste Harriet."

"Thank you Ollie." replied Harry, glowing with the compliments.

Over on Hugo's table, Charlie was asking who his friends were.

"She is Lady Harriet Makepeace and she's just got engaged to the chap in the cream jacket, James Dempsey." explained Hugo.

"What do they do?" she asked.

"Actually I've no idea." he replied. "Harriet worked in a museum the last time I heard, but I've no idea if she's still there. And I've only just met James, so I haven't a clue. I think he's an American, judging by his accent."

"Is she nice?" asked Billie.

"Oh yes, she's lovely." said Hugo. "Would you like to go to their engagement party? I've just been invited and I can take a friend."

"Yes I'd love to." she replied. "Where are they having it?"

"At Harriet's ancestral home. Winfield Hall." replied Hugo. "Her father is Lord Winfield."

"Why is her name Makepeace then?"

"She used to be married to Robert Makepeace, but the marriage collapsed." explained Hugo. "She was all but finished, but it seems she's found happiness at last."

"How nice for her." said Billie, genuinely pleased.

Harry, Dempsey, Angela and Ollie thoroughly enjoyed their meal and went back to Harry's for a night cap, finally wrapping up their evening as dawn was breaking.

Hugo and Billie left ten minutes after them and devoured each other until dawn had morphed into morning.

Little did any of them know how close they were to the mentally disturbed, emotionally broken and psychopathic serial killer that was Billie Maddox.


	12. Chapter 12

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Eleven.**

It was a bleary eyed and hungover engaged couple who walked into SI-10 the following morning and the last thing they needed was Spikings on their case.

But the Commissioner had been on his back and wanted answers, so, as in all chains of command, explanations were sought down the line.

"I'm sorry, sir." Harry was saying after she and Dempsey had been summoned to Spikings' office, along with Chas. "But we've turned up blanks every time so far."

"Yeah Chief." continued Dempsey. "We spent all last week in used car lots tryin' to track down the wheels she might be usin' and came up with nothin'!"

"And our visit to Dorney Reach didn't get us anywhere either, sir." added Harry. "All we learnt there, was that she spent the afternoon with a young chap who she'd only met that day in the local pub."

"And after she'd finished with him, she murders Peter Campbell!" said Dempsey. "No one who's come into contact with her knows any more than her first name, and any records of her address any of 'em may have, turn out to be false."

"She appears to have several different disguises, too, sir." continued Harry. "So the descriptions we've put out in the media haven't produced anything to go on."

"Nothing come up from the garages following our bulletins?" asked Spikings. "There can't be that many twenty something females buying cars."

"You'd be surprised, sir." replied Chas. "The car business is booming. New car sales are beating all previous records and the knock on effect is fuelling increased sales in used cars, since they come in as part exchanges, get refurbished then put on sale. Easy credit is available too, so that's another reason for the sales boost. Although the response to our media campaign has been excellent, it's generated a heap of potential names and addresses which isn't going to take five minutes to follow up."

"Okay, I can see you've left no stone unturned." said Spikings. "Maybe we'll get a break soon."

Dempsey and Harry spent the rest of the day calling those who had bought cars in the last fortnight but achieved nothing. They arrived home that night mentally exhausted.

Not long after they'd had dinner and settled down together on the sofa to drink their coffee's, did the telephone ring.

"Hello?" said Harry, answering it, sitting at her small, exquisite antique desk.

"Harry! Angela!" said her friend. "So? What did you think!?"

"Of Ollie? Very nice indeed Angela." replied Harry. "I can see he's fond of you."

"Do you think it worked?" she asked.

"What?" asked Harry, momentarily puzzled.

"Your ring!" exclaimed Angela. "You know, when I asked to see it! Do you think he got the hint!? I mean, I know I'd already seen it, but he didn't know that!"

"Ah, now I know why you made such a fuss of it." said Harry. "Sorry, I didn't twig your devious plan!"

"Well it might have put the right idea into his head!"

"Oh now, steady on Angela." cautioned Harry. "I really do think you're in far too much of a hurry. Keep this up and you'll frighten him off!"

"Oh God, do you think so?" she replied, miserably. "Yes, maybe you're right."

"I'd slow it down, Ange. Play a little hard to get." said Harry. "It worked for me."

Dempsey's ears pricked up at that. He glanced over at her and pretended to pull his nose out, mimicking Pinnochio. Harry stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm not so sure that's an accurate parallel, Harry." remarked Angela. "But I get your meaning."

She sighed.

"Okay, I'll try and cool it a bit." she said. "But it won't be easy."

"Wear that red dress." suggested Harry, looking back at Dempsey and smiling.

"Oh been there, done that!" replied Angela.

"And?"

"He couldn't wait to get me out of it!"

Harry laughed. "Seems you had better luck with it than I did, then!"

"Now that's not true and you know it!" chastised Angela. "That red dress of mine kicked you two into gear!"

"Yes it did, didn't it." agreed Harry, fond images in her memory. "So look, play it cool and don't be a fool."

Angela laughed. "That's a new one. Okay, thanks Harry darling. See you at the party if not before. Toodle loo."

They rang off.

"It worked for me." parrotted Dempsey in a high pitched voice.

"Be quiet and come here, you sexy hunk of manhood!" said Harry, chuckling, then plonking herself down by his side and kissing him passionately.

Rupert had finally arrived back home, mentally drained and emotional. His mother had gone to stay with his aunt, her sister, so he'd taken the opportunity to escape and deal with his own grief.

He was also distraught that Billie had never been in touch and was utterly baffled as to why. He kept rolling the images of their time together round in his head, remembering their intimacy and undying love for each other.

This was a virtual first for him. He was a most eligible catch for any woman, as had been demonstrated countless times by a string of attractive, wealthy ladies who any man would have snapped up given half a chance and who had always been available to him whenever he called.

Prompted by Harry's invitation to Harry and Dempsey's engagement party, which had arrived in the post, he scanned his address book and rang Lady Arabella Cosgrove-Hartley, an old flame he'd had a two year romance with and who'd been desperate to marry him.

Although she'd been devastated when he'd finished with her, they'd remained friends and she was more than willing to go out with him whenever he asked.

He'd feel comfortable with her. Although he had a reputation for being the most charming of consorts, right now, he hadn't the energy or inclination to be fully attentive to someone he'd only taken out a couple of times.

"Hello? Bella?" he said, when she answered his call. "It's Rupert."

"Rupe darling, hi." she said. "I'm sooo sorry to her about your Papa. How are you coping? And how is your Mum coping? I bet she's in pieces!"

"I'm a bit better now, thanks, Bella. Mother is devastated. It's going to be a while before she's over it." he replied. "How are you?"

"Oh gosh, do give her my love, Rupe. But yes I'm fine, thanks." she said, sighing. "Be nice to see you though."

"Yes well that's why I'm calling actually." he continued. "Have you had an invitation to Harriet Makepeace's engagement party?"

"Yes! I have!" she replied, clearly surprised by it. "I had no idea she was going with anyone. I haven't seen her in ages, have you?"

"Yes I have as a matter of fact." he said. "I bumped into her the other week. She seems very happy."

"Oh that's good to hear." replied Arabella. "She was in bits for ages after she and Robert split. Why are you asking anyway, are you going too?"

"Yes." he said. "I thought we might go together."

"Oh I'd love to, Rupe." she replied, excitedly.

"Well you know, no strings attached and all that." he warned.

"Yes that's okay with me, I understand." she replied, just happy she'd be with him again, irrespective of the circumstances.

"Couldn't we meet up for a drink one evening." she asked. "You know, just because I've not seen you for a while and it'd be nice to catch up before the party."

"Yes I don't see why not." replied Rupert. "When are you free."

"Tonight?" she said, crossing her fingers, whilst biting her lip.

He'd nothing better to do. "Okay, I'll pick you up at eight, ok?"

"Perfect!" she said, thrilled. "See you then."

To all intents and purposes, Billie was happy. She had a lovely apartment, a car, money in the bank, a wealthy, gorgeous new boyfriend and had discovered the joys of sex as opposed to its horrors.

But those horror images had often visited her in the night, when alone in her bed, and she'd wake up trembling, weeping and stare, terrified, at the door, expecting it to open at any moment and see the grinning, evil face of her tormentor creeping stealthily toward her, waving his solid gold Rolex watch in front of her eyes and grinning as he stripped off her pyjamas and worked his fingers on her, forcing her hand down between his legs, growling his instructions.

When she'd been sleeping next to Rupert or Hugo, she'd been at peace - it was as if her tormentor was frightened to come near her when another man lay there beside her.

Of course, this was all in her shattered, broken mind.

Following their meal in Romano's and a night of unbridled passion lasting into the morning light, Billie had returned home after Hugo had left for work, agreeing to meet again that evening.

When they did, their passion was awoken once more and they spent the evening devouring each other again until they'd both fallen into exhausted sleep by midnight.

Hugo had told her he had to go away for a couple of days to Brighton, where his company had a development of new houses being built. He'd suggested she go with him but the thought of keeping up her disguise, decided her against it. Anyway, he'd told her the invitation had come through, specifying an evening celebration, with a formal dress code.

"What does that mean?" she'd asked, innocently.

A little taken aback at her ignorance, Hugo had explained that he'd be in a dinner suit with a bow tie and she could wear as stunning an evening dress as she could find, which he would buy for her, no expense spared.

So for the next day or two she was on her own and decided to go shopping for an expensive gown. Pulling on her short black wig, pink mini skirt, white T shirt and a pair of trainers, with her knife strapped to her hip she headed for 'Selfridges'.

Spending the best part of two hours trying on several exquisite dresses, she finally decided on a long-sleeved lace gown, in Pacific blue. Combining sheer detailing with a classic boat neckline and an elegant waterfall hem, its overall look was given a glamorous finish with intricate bead and sequin embellishments at the shoulders.

To compliment it further she also bought a pair of dark blue, sling back shoes with a pretty beaded flower trim and a clutch bag in black microguccissima leather, with matching nappa leather lining, a magnetic snap closure and an inside pocket.

Thrilled with her purchases, she walked out into Oxford Street and hailed a cab. Sitting in her seat, she placed her packages next to her and settled back for the trip to her apartment in Ealing, opening the Daily Mirror newspaper she'd bought and beginning to read it..

What she hadn't realised was that the cab was unlicensed. Although a standard black taxi, the driver was one of a growing number of Eastern Europeans who had little regard for English law.

He had been constantly glancing in his rear view mirror, which looked straight into the passenger area, and was becoming increasingly aroused at the sight of Billie's exposed thighs, more of which were visible as she, unwittingly, crossed and uncrossed her legs.

With her head bent reading the newspaper, she hadn't noticed the cab drawing up in a deserted car park and stopping. She looked up to see the driver lifting the bonnet and, unconcerned, returned to the newspaper.

Suddenly he was in the cab beside her.

"You, very beautiful." he said in broken English. "Very pretty. I like you a lot. You let me love you and I don't charge."

"Piss off, you moron!" she shouted, angrily. "I ain't interested!"

Then he made his fatal mistake.

Thinking he could bribe her further, he slid up his sleeve and unclipped a gold Rolex. Waving it front of her eyes he said.

"I give you watch, yes? You let me love you and this yours for keeps."

Ten minutes later, Billie walked to the other end of the car park, through a pedestrian alleyway and out onto another main road. She walked along the pavement for a further ten minutes, putting as much distance between her and the car park as possible, before hailing another cab. This time it was licenced and she eventually arrived home, the Rolex now added to her possessions.

The Albanian taxi driver wasn't found for another two hours.

The call came through to SI-10 at two o'clock, Chas picking it up. Attracting Dempsey and Harry's attention, they looked aghast at each other, knowing instinctively what it was all about.

Demspey cut short the call he was on and slammed his receiver down.

"Sorry guys." said Chas. "A taxi driver this time, in Hammersmith. Found in the back of his cab in a car park. Usual injuries. The taxi wasn't licensed, according to the local coppers and the owner's an Albanian. Had a credit card on him. Afrim Gashi was his name. No other details just now."

Dempsey swept both hands through his hair, exasperation clear across his features. "Jeezus, Holy Mother of God!" he swore. "That's five, goddam it!"

Harry moved to his side and hugged him, calming him, other eyes in SI-10 envious of the attention he was getting from their pin up.

"Any witnesses, Chas?" asked Harry, hopeful.

"No Harry, at least none have come forward." he replied.

"Come on, angel." said Dempsey. "We might as well get over there and ask around."

They motored over to Hammersmith, noting a parade of shops opposite the car park. Visiting each one, they only found two shop owners who remembered seeing the cab pull in with what looked like a dark haired woman in the back.

But no-one saw her get out.

They'd drawn yet another blank.

Walking round the car park they spotted the other entrance/exit via the alleyway and realised that was where she'd made her escape and why no-one had seen her from the shops.

"I need a goddam drink!" exclaimed Dempsey, angrily.

"Hey, come here." she said, a little alarmed, taking his hand and pulling him to her. "Calm down. I know it's frustrating, but we're doing all we can. This isn't the time to climb inside a bottle."

"I wasn't exactly gonna climb in a bottle, Harry." he said, smiling, calmer. "I just want one large drink!"

"Mmm, well I've seen how you can go off on one." she replied, then pointed to 'The Drum and Monkey'. "Come on, there's a pub across the road."

They strolled into the pub, Dempsey ordering a double Jack Daniels, Harry a large white wine.

"Say, mister." he said to the barman, showing him his badge at the same time. "Did you see a young girl, black hair, walkin' along the sidewalk out there, say 'bout midday?"

"Now you come to mention it, Squire, yeah I did." he said.

"Can you describe her?" asked Harry.

"Er, yeah, she looked quite tasty luv." he said. "Mini skirt, T shirt and carryin' some bags. Like she'd been shoppin'. She was just strollin' along like she'd not a care in the world."

"Did you notice if the bags had any names on them?" asked Dempsey, getting interested. "Ya know, like Harrods or M&S, stuff like that?"

"Nah, sorry mate." he replied. " I was only glancin' over while I was servin' a customer."

"Ok, if somethin' else comes to mind, give me a call." said Dempsey, passing his details.

They found a table and sat down to enjoy their drinks.

"Hells bells! Strollin' along without a care in the world! Did you hear that!? said Dempsey, his frustration building again. "She'd just stabbed to death then mutilated a guy and simply walks away. If some guy said she was whistlin' Dixie, I'd believe 'em!"

"Dempsey, calm down for Gods sake." said Harry, grabbing his hand again. "Getting angry won't solve anything."

"I know, angel" he said, smiling. "It's just darned annoyin'"

They finished their drinks and returned to SI-10, thankfully finding Spikings had gone for the day. They really didn't need his input!

Somewhat dejected they went home, but by the time they woke the next morning, Dempsey was firing on all cylinders again, Harry having worked her special brand of magic on him!


	13. Chapter 13

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Twelve.**

Rupert's evening with his old flame Arabella had gone better than he'd expected, only because he'd enjoyed her company more than he thought he would.

She was attentive as always, but genuinely concerned for his welfare, conscious that he was hurting terribly through the death of his father, but not knowing that fuelling his discomfort was the absence of Billie in his life.

Anyone glancing at them, however, would immediately have thought what an attractive couple they made.

He, slim, tall and good looking with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes, she a natural blonde (her looks inherited from her mother, herself a Scandinavian beauty and ex-photographic model) with blue eyes, creamy complexion, perfectly toned body and long shapely legs, who regularly turned heads wherever she went.

Although their evening was purely platonic, he surprised himself by finding her sexually attractive again. Their two year relationship had been intense both physically and emotionally and he'd only finished it because she'd started pushing for marriage, which at the time, he felt he wasn't yet ready for.

But that was six years ago now, when he was still in his twenties and when his desire to play the field was much stronger than now.

He'd satisfied that need and had begun to tire of one night stands, never really finding anyone he wanted a long term relationship with.

Until, that is, he met Billie.

Now though, he knew in his heart Billie had dumped him and although that was in itself hard to take, the fact that she'd just cut him off without a word, had left him emotionally destitute at a time when he needed her love and support like never before.

Little did he know, that had he elected to wear one of his black faced, solid gold Rolex's on a night out with her, 'cut' would have had an entirely different, and fatal, result!

After he'd pecked Arabella on the cheek to say goodnight, he'd driven home with her in his thoughts.

Billie was gradually becoming a distant memory.

One can usually tell if one's in love, because their face is the first image that comes into your mind when you wake up.

Arabella's was in Ruperts mind when he awoke the next morning and she was still in his mind several days later.

He called her.

"Bella?" he said, when she answered. "It's Rupe."

"Hi Rupe!" she replied, surprised, her heart rate increasing.

"Hi." he repeated. "Er look, I really enjoyed the other night. Shall we do it again?"

"Yes I did too." she said, her heart beat rapid now. "And I'd love to do it again, yes."

"Okay, how about dinner, tonight?" he asked.

"Lovely." she said. "What time?"

"Eight okay?"

"Eight it is."

At SI-10, Spikings was not in the best of moods by a long chalk.

He wasn't angry with Harry or Dempsey, they were his best operatives and had been doing all they could to bring the serial killer to justice.

No, he was feeling the pressure and the frustration that had got to Dempsey the day before, but he hadn't the love, support and devotion from his wife that Dempsey had with Harry.

The latest murder had brought the Commissioners wrath down on him and his responsibilies were weighing heavily on his mind.

"So you say the barman in the 'Drum and 'Monkey' witnessed our killer walking along the pavement." he was saying.

"Yes Chief. 'Strolling along' were his words." said Dempsey, still feeling disgust.

"Presumably she then caught a bus or another cab." said Spikings, rubbing his chin. "If we could ascertain the latter, we'd have an address, wouldn't we."

"We would sir, yes." agreed Harry.

"Let's see if we can, at least, establish one or the other." said Spikings and turning to Chas. "Contact the cab companies and see which of their drivers were in the area yesterday and, if so, whether they recall picking up the girl. You've got her description. And get a bulletin out on todays TV and radio, asking if anyone travelling by bus at the allotted time remembers her."

"Right away, sir." replied Chas, immediately leaving the office to attend to his instructions.

"I suggest you two help him." said Spikings. "Oh and by the way, Harry, on a lighter, more personal note. We've received your invitation and Mrs Spikings and I will be coming along."

"Good, thank you, sir." she replied. "Let's just hope we've wrapped this case up by then."

"Indeed." he replied.

The rest of that week was spent on the telephones trying to track down the driver of the black cab that had picked Billie up.

But Billie's luck was still holding out.

The cabbie was on his last shift that afternoon and by eight o'clock that night, was sitting on an aeroplane heading out of Gatwick for Tenerife, looking forward to a fortnights holiday with his family.

When Hugo returned from his two day business trip to Brighton he was anxious to see Billie, but realised he'd never asked her for her telephone number.

However, Billie was just as anxious to see him again and called him at his office.

"Hello?" he said, then had to wait for the beeps.

"Hello? Hugo? It's Billie here." she said.

"Billie, I've missed you like hell!"

"Yeah I've missed you too."

"Why are you calling me from a 'phone box?"

"Mine's out of order at home."

"Oh right." he said. "Can we hook up tonight?"

"Yeah we sure can!" she replied, her seductive tone telling him exactly what she was intending they do when they met again. "I'm in town later anyway. I'll come to you."

"Fabulous. What time?"

"As soon as you're home?"

"Six o'clock in that case."

"Can't wait." she replied

"Me neither."

After she'd called him, she took a trip over to Alfie Bates, hoping this Rolex wasn't a fake. After all, what did a cab driver make in wages? She didn't know, but held her breath as Alfie inspected it.

"Yeah." he said, looking her in the eye as usual. "Not a rare one, pretty run of the mill, if you can call a Rolex run of the mill. But there are many one off's, like the last one you 'ad, but this ain't one of 'em."

"So, 'ow much?" she asked, her gaze level and cool.

"Four grand, no messin'." he said. "It's the best I can do with this one, luv."

"Make it five?" she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

"Nah." he said. "No can do. Four is tops."

"Alright then, four it is." she agreed, taking the usual package of notes from him and leaving.

Had she known it's history, she would have discovered that Afrim had stolen it in the first place!

Reasonably satisfied with boosting her savings by another four thousand pounds, Billie returned to her apartment and got ready for her night with Hugo, electing to wear her yellow chiffon blouse with no bra and leaving several buttons undone.

It had the desired effect as soon as he opened the door. He'd undressed and bedded her with minutes.

By seven-thirty they were hungry, so he suggested they go to 'Barts' in South Kensington, an upmarket cocktail bar and restaurant, arriving at eight o'clock.

The seating was arranged in intimate booths, privacy secured through subdued lighting, with a brace of coloured, scented candles gracing the table.

"What would you like to drink, beautiful?" asked Hugo and read out a list of exotic sounding cocktails.

Billie settled for a 'Blue Lagoon' made with vodka, curacao liqueur and lemonade, garnished with Maraschino cherries and chilled with ice cubes. Hugo chose a 'Maidens Prayer'.

"What's that?" asked Billie.

"Actually its known as a flirty cocktail for sexy people." he said, grinning at her.

"I should have had that then!" she replied. "What's it made with?"

"Er, light rum, brandy, triple sec with lemon juice, garnished with lemon twists and lots of ice cubes. Try mine when it arrives."

"Mmm, I might do that." she said, slipping her foot out of her shoe and rubbing it up and down his leg under the table.

At about the same time, Rupert was collecting Arabella.

"Where would you like to go, Bella?" he asked, noting that she looked especially gorgeous, her gleaming blonde hair contrasted against a lime green summer dress, her long, tanned legs stretched out in front of her, as she sat in the low, bucket seat of the Lotus.

"Entirely up to you, Rupe." she said, then. "Wait. I know, why not 'Barts' in South Ken? We used to go there a lot, remember? I haven't been since we...we, well you know."

"I know." he said, softly, taking hold of her hand. "'Barts' it is."

When they entered, Rupert didn't see Hugo or Billie.

But Billie saw him.

She happened to be in the seat facing the door and she felt her heart skip a beat, a pang of jealousy hitting her when she saw the beautiful, statuesque blonde walk in with him.

They were shown to a booth out of sight from Billie's and round a corner in the room. She felt a surge of panic as she looked around, noticing that anyone wanting the toilets would pass directly in front of her.

Hugo had been talking.

"Billie?" he asked, frowning at the weird look on her face. "What's up?"

The last thing she needed was Rupert recognising her. It was as if her whole life was flashing before her eyes, such was her alarm.

She pulled herself together, thinking fast.

"I...I don' feel so good, Hugo." she said, quietly. "I don' think that drink 'as agreed with me."

"It can sometimes have that effect." replied Hugo, not overly concerned. "Just sit quietly for a moment, I'm sure it will pass. Our meal will be here in a moment, you'll feel better with some food inside you."

She needed to get out of there, but had to be careful she didn't prompt some unwanted questioning from Hugo.

Meanwhile Rupert and Arabella had settled into their seats and were studying the cocktail menu.

"I always had 'The Maidens 'Prayer' didn't I, Rupe." she said, smiling.

"Ah yes, the flirty cocktail for sexy people." he laughed, gazing across at her, the memory flooding back. "Why don't you go for it again."

"It's very fitting." she replied, her eyes settling on his, the message loud and clear.

"Yes, I think so." he said, softly. "I'll go for the Mai Tai."

"Oh that's a new one. What's in it?"

"Light and dark rum, creme de almond, triple sec and Pineapple juice with a sweet and sour mix." he replied, reading directly from the menu.

"Mmm, I think you'll like that." she said. "You were always fond of rum, weren't you."

Hugo's and Billie's meal had arrived and while he tucked into his with gusto, Billie just pushed the food around on her plate, taking the odd nibble now and then.

"Come on, beautiful." said Hugo. "I thought you were hungry like me?"

"The drink is still affecting me, I think." she said, quickly. "I've kinda lost my appetite a bit. Excuse me, I'll just go the the ladies."

She slid out of the booth and disappeared into the toilet, finding a cubicle, sitting on the toilet seat and wondering how on earth she was to get out of this.

While she was gone, Rupert needed the 'Gents' and as he was passing, he spotted Hugo.

"Hey pal." he said. "How's you?"

"Rupert, as I live and breath!" said Hugo, holding out his hand, delighted to see him again." How the devil are you?"

"I could be better, actually." replied Rupert, shaking Hugo's outstretched hand. "My father passed away a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh hell." said Hugo. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, old man. How's your Mum taken it?"

"Not well." replied Rupert, not wanting to dwell on the subject in case his emotions got the better of him. "But, you know, life must go on. So are you dating or going steady?"

"Intending on going steady, actually." said Hugo. "Just met a girl. Went to 'Tramp' and saw her. Been together ever since. Well, ever since a few days ago, that is."

Rupert felt a pang of nostalgia hit him. If he'd turned round, he'd have seen Billie walk out of the 'Ladies'. She caught her breath when she saw him talking to Hugo and swiftly ducked back inside the toilets.

"Do you know, that happened to me." he said. "Went into 'Tramp' on one of their Sunday night freebie things and met a crackerjack."

"Is she here with you now?"

"No. We er..split up."

"Oh sorry to hear that, old chap." replied Hugo. "Still plenty of fish... so the saying goes. Who're you with tonight?"

"Arabella."

"What? ex Arabella?"

At that moment, she walked over to them on her way to the 'Ladies'.

"Hello Hugo." she said, brightly.

"Arabella my darling, you're looking quite stunning, as usual." said Hugo, standing up and kissing her cheek.

"Still knocking the ladies off their feet?" she asked, laughing.

"I guess so." he replied, laughing too.

"I must go, duty calls." she said and kissing him again, brushed her hand across Ruperts and walked towards the toilets, calling back. "Lovely to see you."

"My God, Rupert, she's as beautiful as ever." said Hugo. "Are you an item again?"

"We could be, I think." he replied. "Hey, are you going to Harriet's party?"

"Yes, you?"

"Sure am. I wouldn't miss it for the world." said Rupert. "She's in great form. Very happy. Who are you escorting?"

"My new girlfriend, Charlie." said Hugo. "If you hang about, you'll meet her. She's in the ladies too. Her drink has upset her tum. Will you be taking Arabella, by the way?"

"Yes, I will." replied Rupert. "Anyway look, I'm busting my gut here. Must go and water the horse."

"Ha! Okay." chuckled Hugo. "Great to see you, again. If not sooner, then at Harriets."

"Absolutely." agreed Rupert, shaking his hand before making for the 'Gents'.

Billie sat stock still and silent in a cubicle when she heard the door open and stayed there for a good ten minutes after Arabella had left.

When she eventually arrived back in the booth, Hugo was looking very worried.

"You came very close to me coming in there to get you." he said. "Are you feeling okay now?"

"No, not really, I've been sick." she lied. "Can we go, do you think?"

"Of course, yes, you poor thing." he said, attracting the attention of a waiter and indicating he brought the bill over. "Won't be long. You'll never guess, an old friend of mine's here, Rupert Barrington-Smythe. I must introduce you."

Billie nearly did throw up for real at that.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'd like to meet your friend, but I'm not really up to it, right now."

He was about to tell her she'd meet him anyway at Harry's party, but the waiter appeared at that point, so he forgot all about it whilst checking the bill and paying.

They finally got up to leave, Billie praying that Rupert didn't see her exiting the door.

He did look up, fleetingly, and saw the back of her as she left, but didn't recognise her long blonde hair. Arabella had slid her hand across the table and taken his, stroking it lovingly, and the tingle that went through him, diverted his attention fully back to her.

The evening ended with them back in bed together once more and by morning, Rupert knew he'd fallen in love with her again.

He wasn't going to lose her this time and had realised that she was so beautiful, it was a miracle no other man had captured her heart whilst he'd been sowing his wild oats.

As she reached for him again, he kissed her and lifted himself up on an elbow, looking down at her closed eyes.

She opened them and studied him.

"What?" she said, unable to detect exactly what was in his eyes, yet frightened to believe what she thought she saw in them.

It was the last thing she'd expected, but had yearned for, for so long.

"I love you, Bella. Will you marry me?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Thirteen.**

By the time Billie and Hugo arrived back at his apartment, she had made a remarkable recovery, but her manipulative guile successfully deflected him from questioning her.

Almost as soon as they'd walked through the door, she had put her arms round his neck and apologized for spoiling the evening, gently rubbing his body with hers. It had the desired effect, he slowly undressing her as they shuffled into the bedroom, any doubts as to her sincerity soon dispelled.

As far as Rupert and Arabella were concerned their morning was pure bliss. Having managed to say yes to his marriage proposal before sobbing her heart out with joy, she'd excitedly called her mother with the news, who had mirrored her daughter in floods of tears.

She'd had to pick up the pieces all those years ago, after Rupert had finished his steady relationship with Arabella and her mother had known she was unlikely, ever, to feel the same way about a man again, thus concerning her that, if she eventually married someone else, her husband would always be second best.

They'd even named the date and were planning the wedding for Saturday, December 19th.

Bursting with the news, Arabella had 'phoned round all her friends who were equally excited and happy for her, the grapevine eventually reaching Angela's ears.

She was straight on to Harry at work.

"Harry! You'll never guess what!"

"Erm, Elvis isn't dead? Aliens have landed in Milton Keynes? Neil Kinnock is intelligent? No, Angela, I can't even guess." she responded, playfully.

"Oh, funny ha ha." replied Angela. "No. Rupert has asked Arabella to marry him!"

"Really!?" said Harry. "I thought that relationship was dead in the water years ago."

"Yes, well it was." replied Angela. "But it finished because Rupert didn't want to get married. Anyway, apparently he asked her if she was going to your party, she said yes, so he said, come with me, and to break the ice, they went out for a drink and bingo! He's obviously ready and willing to take the ultimate plunge now!"

"You're a mine of information, Angela!" said Harry "Anyway, I'm thrilled for them. Anyone could see they're perfect for each other. Have they named a date yet?"

"December 19th." replied Angela.

"Oh lovely." said Harry. "I hope there's lots of snow. That'd make it really romantic wouldn't it?"

"Golly yes, wouldn't it just. And that's two engagements in the last month or so." remarked Angela. "Things usually come in three's, don't they?"

"Now, now Angela." warned Harry, knowing exactly what she was hankering after. "Remember what I said. Play it cool and give it some time!"

"He told me he loved me last night." said Angela, almost in whisper, as though if someone else was listening it wouldn't be true.

"Wonderful." replied Harry. "Now don't go and blow it. Let him do the running."

"You mean chase him 'til he catches me!" said Angela.

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose!" laughed Harry. "Listen, I must go. Talk soon."

"Ok darling, bye."

"Don' tell me." said Dempsey, pretending to wrack his brains. "That was Angela. Someone gettin' married?"

"No flies on you, Dempsey." mocked Harry. "Yes, Rupert is."

"Who's he gettin' hitched to?"

"Lady Arabella Cosgrove-Hartley."

"Sheesh! You English and ya fancy names!" he replied. "Next you'll be wantin' to be called Harry Makepeace-Winfield-Dempsey!"

"No." said Harry, laughing at him. "Harry Dempsey will do just fine. Well, Lady Harriet Dempsey to be exact."

For the next couple of weeks, Billie's case went quiet in terms of further mutilated bodies being reported and no further clues as to her identity emerging.

Chas, Jon, Dempsey and Harry followed up every response that had been received from the various TV and radio bulletins and media articles urging potential witnesses to come forward. They came up with precisely nothing. None of their snouts reported anything either, giving the impression the underworld had closed ranks.

For Billie those two weeks were idyllic. She virtually lived in Hugo's apartment, being wined and dined by him every night, followed by lovemaking into the early hours.

Whilst he was safely out of the way and at work one day, she'd briefly taken a cab home, packed a suitcase, driven back to Kensington, unloaded, then returned home to garage her car, before cabbing it back.

She'd also left an envelope with her rent in cash and a note to her landlord explaining she'd taken a holiday. He was miffed, since he'd been intent on making it clear he'd waive payment for a weekend in bed with her.

'Next month perhaps' he'd thought.

Rupert and Arabella's engagement was rubber stamped when he bought her a diamond solitaire ring weighing in at two carats and set within a platinum claw.

With their wedding just five months away, they'd decided against a large engagement party. Instead their celebrations would extend over the entire weekend with all manner of entertainment planned, including a surprise visit by Julio Iglesias to serenade the happy pair.

Her father, Lord Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley was a personal friend, having met him several years previously when Jonas had bought a villa neighbouring his.

Angela and Ollie's relationship continued apace, Angela taking Harry's advice, playing things a bit cool at times by not always being available when Ollie required it.

She'd sit and look at her telephone ringing, knowing it was him, but forcing herself not to answer it, thus giving him the impression she was out somewhere and leaving him to wonder what she was getting up to.

On the Wednesday afternoon before the August bank holiday weekend, Spikings called Harry and Dempsey into his office.

"Your party is due this weekend, you two, and I'm sure you've plenty to do." he said. "So get yourselves off and I'll see you, along with the memsahib, on Saturday. We'll handle things here for the next couple of days."

"Thanks Chief, much appreciated." said Dempsey. "But if somethin' comes up let us know, will ya?"

"I'll keep you posted, Lieutenant." he replied. "Now off with you."

"Thank you, sir." agreed Harry. "We'll see you in a few days then."

They confirmed with the rest of the guys that they were all coming, then made their way back to Harry's house, packing their things and then motoring up to Winfield Hall.

Having already called ahead to Freddy, he was waiting for them on the terrace with two bottles of Bollinger on ice.

The Met Office had confirmed that the hot weather was set to continue, with temperatures nudging the nineties during the day and not dropping below twenty degrees at night.

"Maybe we shouldn't have decided on formal evening wear." said Harry, sipping her champagne. "The men are going to be sweltering."

"Oh I shouldn't worry too much, Harry." replied Freddy. "Most of them will wear lightweight suits and no-one's going to object if the ties come off early."

"No, I suppose not." she replied, smiling

"Is your mother coming, James?" asked Freddy. "I suppose it's a silly question, I'm sure you would have said."

"No, she ain't comin' Freddy." replied Dempsey. "But she says she wouldn't miss me gettin' hitched for the world, so I guess you'll meet her when Harry an' I set a date."

"And Simone?" asked Harry.

"Not heard a thing, angel." replied Dempsey. "But I wouldn't put it past her to just show up!"

"Does she know where this house is then?" asked Harry.

"I guess Ma would've told her." he said.

"By the way, Daddy." said Harry. "Joyce is on her own right now, so I've suggested she come up on Friday. She's aiming to be here by early evening."

"Fine." replied Freddy. "It will be nice to see her again. Your Aunt Alice is coming up on Friday too."

"Batten down the hatches, then!" giggled Harry. "Does she have a new man yet?"

"No, she's still looking, so she says." answered Freddy.

"Dear God, she'll be in her element with lots of men about!" laughed Harry.

Freddy had booked the same team of caterers, electricians, waitering and bar staff as he'd had for his seventieth birthday party a month or so previously and since that had all gone off without a hitch, he, Harry and Dempsey had seen little reason to alter an already proven formula.

After a relaxing and quiet Thursday, Friday was the exact opposite as all the various personnel arrived and began setting up their individual areas.

With close on one hundred and fifty guests scheduled to arrive, the extensive grounds fronting the large terrace were going to be fully utilised, so as to accommodate everybody comfortably.

Twenty-five large umbrellas with canopies spanning ten feet in diameter, accompanied by circular tables and six chairs each were arranged on the lawns, a bar, sixteen feet long, was set up at the back of the terrace and another area close by, given over to handle the buffet.

The terrace itself was chosen as the dance area, with a wooden floor specially designed to cover it completely.

As the sun sank in the west and dusk replaced daylight, a multitude of coloured lights would switch themselves on, invisible and hidden in the trees and garden shrubbery.

At five o'clock, whilst the finishing touches were being made, Joyce arrived and, having selected a table to sit at, the four of them enjoyed their drinks, Dempsey opting for a Budweiser, Freddy a whisky and water and the girls sharing a bottle of Chardonnay, all served by the devoted Abbott.

The peace was shattered an hour or so later, when the roaring exhausts of Aunt Alice's classic Jaguar could be heard thundering up the drive.

In her usual indomitable way, she swept onto the terrace, air kissing each person in turn, before ordering a gin and tonic.

"Now Harriet darling." she said, taking a sip. "What time do you expect your jolly start tomorrow?"

"Eight o'clock, Aunt Alice." replied Harry.

"Oh, my invitation says seven-thirty."

"Yes, they all do." said Harry. "But no-one likes to be first to arrive, so a lot of people will leave it for about half an hour, anyway, before turning up. This way it stands a better chance of getting off on time."

"Yes, I see." said Alice. "And how many party goers have you invited?"

"About a hundred and fifty." replied Harry.

"Any single men?" she asked in a low voice and winking at her.

"Alice, any single men will be half your age." remarked Freddy. "And they'll have their eyes on any single ladies who will be present."

"Well, I'm single aren't I!?" she said, her eyes twinkling as she looked at them all, one by one. "And remember, you did tell me, Harriet, that you'd love to have a figure like mine when you get to my age, didn't you, darling?"

"Er. I did, yes, Aunt Alice." she replied, looking at Dempsey, concern creeping across her face. "But surely you can't be serious about finding a - well, a toyboy!."

There followed a pregnant silence, everyone looking at each other and wondering what next to say.

Suddenly Alice could stand it no longer and burst into fits of laughter.

"Your faces!" she said, tears of mirth beginning to fill her eyes. "Of course I'm not going to be on the prowl, stalking young men! What _do_ you take me for! Mind you, none of them would be safe if I were forty years younger, I can tell you!"

With the tension now dissipated, the rest of the evening was raucous, fun and full of laughter, everyone retiring to bed at midnight, except Harry and Dempsey. They sat together in the quiet of the night, enjoying the peace and the warm air, he with a beer, her with a glass of wine.

"This reminds me of Spain, darling." said Harry, before leaning across and saying. "Shall we go skinny dipping?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" replied Dempsey, grabbing her hand, both of them running down to the secluded swimming pool, its water smooth and black.

Harry switched on the pool's underwater lights, transforming it into turquoise blue, then quickly followed Dempsey in stripping off her clothes and diving into the water after him.

They swam a few lengths together, Harry matching him stroke for stroke. Dempsey stopped and backed up against the pool wall, treading water, his arms stretched out gripping the sides and watching Harry as she continued swimming, admiring her graceful crawl.

She cruised up to him, reaching out and putting her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately, pressing her naked body to his and feeling his immediate arousal.

"Make love to me." she said, breathless, wrapping her legs around him, sighing as he began carressing her, then gripping his hips as the ecstasy took hold.

Their passion eventually sated, they crawled into bed together at one-thirty and drifted into peaceful sleep.

They awoke at eight-thirty, showered and dressed and made their way down to the dining room for breakfast, joining Joyce and Freddy, Alice not having yet stirred.

"Morning everyone." said Harry. "Did you sleep well, Joyce?"

"I did, thanks Harry." replied Joyce, then smiling at her. "Although I did hear a lot of splashing about in the early hours."

"Ah, that would have been us." said Harry, returning her smile. "We made use of the lovely, balmy night. Did we wake you then?"

"Oh only briefly." said Joyce, a knowing look in her eye. "You went quiet after a while."

Freddy suppressed a chuckle, Dempsey stifled a laugh, Joyce just grinned and Harry blushed.

In Hugo's apartment, Billie had laid out her underwear, evening dress, shoes and clutch bag, ensuring her knife was tucked away in its inside pocket. She'd deliberated as to whether to include it or not, but it was somehow like a comfort rag and she felt better knowing she'd got it.

Amazingly, she'd completely forgotten that Hugo and Rupert were friends and it never dawned on her that Rupert might also be at the party. Her excitement at dressing up in all her finery and accompanying her handsome Hugo to a society party in a stately home, as he'd described it, had occupied her mind completely.

Rupert and Arabella were looking forward to the party, Arabella in particular because she hadn't seen Harry since her marriage had collapsed. At the time she'd been one of many who'd comforted her and had that receiprocated when her own relationship with Rupert failed.

So it was nice to know that they'd both come through those dark times and found happiness again. She was also looking forward to meeting Dempsey, Angela having waxed lyrical about him when she'd called to congratulate her on getting engaged to Rupert.

The trip to Winfield Hall would take around ninety minutes, Hugo and Billie setting off sometime after six, Rupert and Arabella around half an hour later.

Billie enjoyed driving with Hugo at the wheel. His Porsche was very powerful and she loved being pushed into her seat when he let loose it's awesome power.

"I love this car, Hugo." she said, resting her hand high on his thigh.

"Do you beautiful?" he replied. "I do too. My friend Rupert and I bought our cars at the same time. He went for a turbo charged Lotus, I chose this. I bet we'd beat him to the party though, if we'd set off together."

It was as if a fist had hit her in the chest.


	15. Chapter 15

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Fourteen.**

"You've gone very quiet all of a sudden, beautiful." said Hugo, glancing over at Billie. "Anything wrong?"

His voice sounded as though it was coming at her down a tunnel.

Her mind was in turmoil as the realisation struck home that Rupert would be at the party too. He was bound to recognise her, despite her altered appearance and there was no way she could avoid him.

Memories of prison cells, vicious female screws, awful, inedible food and the constant threat of rape from butch, lesbian inmates tore through her mind.

There was only one way to stop it from becoming a reality.

She'd have to kill Rupert.

"Charlie!" Hugo yelled, clutching her hand, which was unconsciously gripping his thigh. "That hurts! Charlie! What's _wrong_ with you!?"

She looked down at her hand and then at his worried, alarmed face, suddenly coming to her senses.

"What? Oh sorry, Hugo." she said, relaxing her grip on him and stroking his leg instead. She wracked her brain for an answer. "I...I was just remembering a car crash I was in as a kid."

"Oh God, do you want me to slow down?" said Hugo, resting his hand on hers.

"No, no you're okay, _I'm_ okay." she replied. "I trust your driving. It was just a sudden memory."

"Ok, so long as you're sure, my love." replied Hugo, slowing his speed anyway even though she'd looked at him and nodded.

At Winfield Hall it was seven o'clock.

Dempsey was checking his appearance with one eye on the mirror and the other on Harry, watching as she put the finishing touches to her eye shadow, wearing just a pair of white satin cami knickers and a matching brassiere, her smooth, tanned skin crying out to be carressed.

She glanced at his reflection and giggled at him.

"I don't think I need to guess what's going through your mind right now, but the answer's no." she said, unable to keep the smile off her face. "It's taken me ages to get my make-up right and there isn't time to re-do it!"

"Yeah? But you don' need a lotta make-up, honey." he said, grinning at her. "'An you ain't wearin' much in the way of clothes right now either."

She turned round and looked at him, coolly.

"We haven't got time." she said firmly, though not altogether convincingly.

"I guess I can dream though, huh?" he replied, still smiling.

"Hmmm." she said, her voice turning husky, her gaze seductive. "And who's to say your dreams won't come true later, darling."

Applying her pale pink lipstick, then squeezing her lips together, she stepped into her stunning evening dress.

Fashioned out of full length chiffon in startling fuchsia with a scooped neckline, it flowed from her bosom gracefully to the floor, an intricately woven lace upper bodice in cream, covering her shoulders and stretching along her arms to just below the elbows.

"Zip me up darling, would you." she said, turning her back to him. "And don't get any ideas!"

He grinned and did as he was told, taking hold of her by the waist and turning her round to face him.

"You look ...breathtaking!" he said, his forefinger tracing the edge of her hair and gently following the outline of her cheek, before leaning in to her, his lips brushing hers.

As he straightened up, she slipped her hands both sides of the lapels of his white tuxedo and pulled him to her, kissing him passionately, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"You shouldn't be so damned sexy and kissable!" she said, grinning, letting go of him to adjust his maroon, velvet bow tie, before feigning annoyance. "I'll have to repair my lippy now."

Giving himself a final once over in the mirror, he slipped his Rolex on, waited while she re-applied her lipstick, then took her hand in his.

"Ready honey?" he asked. "This is your night."

"This is _our_ night, James." she whispered, looking up into his eyes. "I love you so much, sometimes I think my heart will burst."

"I know what you mean, Harry." he replied, kissing her eyes. "My ticker's forever skippin' beats. Like right now, it's jumpin' through hoops!"

"Oh God, I could cry in a moment." she said, the enormity of the night ahead marking the start of a new beginning in her life, a life with a man she adored so much it hurt.

"Come on, partner." he said, grinning. "Let's go knock 'em dead!"

They walked downstairs, out along the dance floor and over to the bar, where Freddy was pouring out some flutes of champagne.

"Ah, perfect timing!" he said, then stood back and looked at his gorgeous daughter, before handing her a glass. "Harry darling, you look utterly, incredibly beautiful!"

"Thank you Daddy." she replied, smiling at him and taking her champagne. "You look very debonair yourself."

Just then Joyce and Alice, arm in arm, joined them, each looking glamorous in their evening dresses.

"You two look fabulous! And you also look as though you've been cooking something up!" said Harry, suspiciously.

"Aha, well now. Joyce needs a man, darling." replied Alice, taking a glass of champagne from Freddy. "I'm going to be her wingman tonight."

"I'm not so sure I'd put it _quite_ like that, Aunt Alice." chuckled Joyce. "It would be nice to _meet_ a man, whether I'd actually _want_ him would depend on _him_."

"Same thing darling." replied Alice, confusingly, then beaming round at them all.

All of a sudden a female voice with a broad Bronx accent boomed across the dance floor.

"How 'bout a goddam drink, Dempsey!?"

"Simone!" he said, grinning as his old flame came stomping across the dance floor. "Why didn't ya tell me ya was comin'!"

"Hey, I like surprises! Hiya Harry." she said, walking straight up to her and giving her a hug. "Ya still got that top I gave ya?"

"Hello Simone. How wonderful that you've come all this way!" exclaimed Harry, her genuine pleasure obvious. "Yes I've still got it and I still love it. Now let me introduce you to everyone."

Harry did the honours, everyone taking an immediate liking to Simone. She came across instantly as down to earth and honest, trustworthy and loyal and although loud, also natural.

Harry! Congratulations!" said Simone, taking a gulp of her champagne. "You won't ever regret hooking up with this dumb cluck! 'An Dempsey? You take good care of her, they broke the mould with this lady!"

She spotted Harry's ring.

"Hell and be damned!" she exclaimed, holding Harry's fingers out and studying the jewel . "Will ya take a look at that goddam bobby dazzler!? Whatta rock! You robbin' banks now, Dempsey!?"

"You gonna stop ya rabbittin' an' give me a hug!?" said Dempsey.

"Sure honey." she replied, hugging him tightly. "Congrats and thanks for the invite."

"You're welcome!" he said. "Glad you could make it."

"I wouldna missed this for the world." she said, then glancing over at Harry. "I was right about you two, wasn't I honey?"

"Yes, you were, Simone." replied Harry, putting her arm round Dempsey's waist. "You and two other people are responsible for bringing this man and I together. Joyce is one and Angela, who should be here soon, was the third. And my lovely father here opened my eyes to him as a man rather than just an annoying detective!"

"_I_ could have told you he was a _man_, Harriet darling!" piped up Alice, looking at Dempsey as if she could eat him.

Turning to Simone, she asked. "Do you have a man at home, my dear?"

"Nah, not right now." she said. In fact, since she and Dempsey split up, no-one had come close to him.

"Stick me with then, darling." said Alice, winking at her. "My antenna will be charged tonight and on full alert!"

"Talk of the devil." said Harry, as Angela and Ollie, hand in hand, stepped through the open french windows and strolled over to them.

"Hi everybody." said Angela, kissing and hugging everyone in turn, whilst introducing Ollie, then stopping at Simone.

Harry introduced them, filling Angela in on Simone's connection with her and Dempsey. They liked each other instantly.

Dempsey took a spoon and tapped the side of his glass, everyone quietening down and looking at him.

"I just wanna take this moment before we get busy, an' make a toast to the four people here who Harry, my fiance, mentioned earlier. Angela, Simone, Joyce, Freddy. Without you four, I'd still be free and single!"

They all stared at him, the looks on their faces clearly indicating wonderment as to where on earth this was going. They waited with baited breath, not least Harry, whose face was a picture.

He looked at them one by one with a frowned expression.

"'An as miserable as hell!" he suddenly said, a wide grin lighting up his features. "Thanks to you, I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with the most beautiful girl in the world, my soulmate, my friend, my lover." He raised his glass to the four of them. "To you."

Harry took hold of his hand and squeezed it, then gazed into his eyes, her unmistakeable love for him clear for all to see.

Abbott suddenly appeared then and announced that the guests had started to arrive.

"Wow, that's a surprise." said Harry, looking at her watch. "It's dead on seven-thirty!"

She and Dempsey had agreed that no engagement presents should be given, instead, envelopes with cash or cheques inside, together with the name and address of the charity they'd like the money donated to, must be handed in to Abbott upon arrival. No specific amounts were required, the decision left to the individual.

As various friends and family members trooped in, Harry and Dempsey were soon separated, each surrounded by guests eager to know about their romance and how it had developed.

After all, following the collapse of her marriage, she'd thrown herself into her work with SI-10, and her partying days had taken a back seat, so many had lost touch with her.

They'd carefully rehearsed their story to ensure no mention was made of Harry's true employment as a detective, however.

Spikings and the rest of the team, together with Joyce, had been notified of this so, as far as anyone was concerned, they were Dempsey's guests.

By eight-thirty the party was in full swing, the summer air heady with laughter, music, dancing and conversation.

Into this atmosphere had walked Hugo and Billie, Hugo immediately seeking out Harry.

"Hugo! Hi!" she greeted, smiling and offering her cheek as he bent down to kiss it, then glancing at Billie, a inexplicable shiver shooting down her spine, her sixth sense picking up a vibe that warned beware!

"This is Charlie, my girlfriend." said Hugo, presenting her.

"Hello Charlie, thanks for coming." said Harry, holding out her hand.

"Hello." replied Billie, smiling and shaking it. "Thanks for the invite."

"Where's your fiance, Harry?" asked Hugo, looking for Dempsey. "I hear he's your real life New York detective."

Billie stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but Harry caught it.

"Yes he is." replied Harry, watching Billie. "He's around somewhere. I'm sure you'll meet him soon. Have you had a drink, yet?"

"No actually we haven't." replied Hugo, taking Billie's hand in his. "We've only just arrived. Come on, beautiful, let's get to the bar. We'll catch Harriet and James in a bit. By the way, have you seen Rupert? I bumped into him the other week when he was dining with Arabella and now I hear they're getting married!"

"Yes, what wonderful news, isn't it." replied Harry. "I haven't come across them yet. Mind you there's a hundred and fifty people here, so they could be anywhere."

"Oh I'm sure they would have found you first, Harriet." said Hugo, then grinning. "Perhaps his Lotus has let him down. I told him not to buy one, they're notoriously unreliable, you know."

"That would be awful." replied Harry. "I do hope that hasn't happened, although I'm sure, come to think of it, I'd have seen them by now."

Billie hadn't said a word and was now praying Rupert's car _had_ broken down, but she still managed a weak smile as Hugo took her off to the bar.

Harry watched them go and decided to find Dempsey. It was about time he danced with her anyway.

She found him with Joyce and Simone, all three sitting at a table and drinking their champagne, easy in conversation with each other.

"Ah here you are." she said, accepting Dempsey's outstretched hand as he pulled her down onto his lap. "Will you dance with me? You don't mind, do you girls?"

"Take him away! He's yours!" said Simone, with a flourish, her words slightly slurred as the champagne started to take effect.

"Come on, honey." said Dempsey, suspecting there was more to Harry's request, their unique radar connecting with each other.

They strolled onto the dance floor as George Michael's 'Careless Whisper' began playing, Harry immediately throwing her arms round Dempsey's neck and swaying into synch with him as the gentle beat floated into the air.

"What's up, princess?" he said, noting the flicker of alarm that had flashed in her eyes.

"I've just been introduced to Hugo's girlfriend." she replied. "And there's something about her, but I can't put my finger on it."

"What sort of somethin'?" he asked.

"She's nervous, on edge. It's almost as if she'd rather be anywhere than here right now." replied Harry. "And I find that rather odd. You'd think she'd love being here. Everyone else does."

"Mebbe she's had a row with Hugo or ain't feelin' well." suggested Dempsey.

"No." replied Harry. "It's more than that, I'm certain of it."

"Okay honey." said Dempsey, stroking her hair. "We'll keep an eye on her, okay?"

"Okay." she replied, relaxing and pressing her body into him, suggestively, while drawing his head down and kissing his lips.

"You two are looking very close." said the familiar voice of Spikings as he and his wife joined them on the dance floor. "Anyone would think you're planning to marry each other!"

"Gordon!" said Mrs Spikings. "Sorry, he thinks he's being funny."

"Hello sir, Mrs Spikings." said Harry, letting go of Dempsey, reluctantly. "Have you just arrived?"

"About half an hour ago" replied Spikings. "Been chatting to your father over a drink. I haven't seen him since our foray into Spain, so we've been doing a bit of reminiscing."

"You have a beautiful home, Harriet." said Mrs Spikings. "I have to say your dress is stunning. And your engagement ring is fabulous."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you to say so." replied Harry, fanning her hand out, the diamond sparkling. "Have you seen the rest of the guys? They're all here, dotted around the place."

"Yes, it appears most of them are propping up your bar." said Spikings. "Their wives and girlfriends seem to be happily dancing together around their handbags."

"Huh! That figures!" chuckled Dempsey, earning himself one of Mrs Spikings' thousand yard stares.

"Come on Dempsey." said Harry, reverting to office speak. "I'm thirsty. We'll love you and leave you."

"Yes cheerio." said Mrs Spikings. "See you later."

They left the Spikings's to the dance floor and made for the bar.

"She's very nice but I bet she puts him through it." remarked Harry as they walked hand in hand to order their drinks.

"Yeah, bit of a battleaxe ain't she?"

Harry giggled and squeezed his hand.

As Spikings had said, most of SI-10 were at the bar and gave them a cheer when they joined them.

"Great party, Harry." said Chas, the rest of the guys agreeing with him.

"Thanks Chas." said Harry. "Thanks fellas. Where's your wife by the way?"

"On the dance floor last time I looked." said Chas, pointing her out. "Prancing about to music isn't my thing."

Just then a voice behind Harry said. "Harriet, I'm so sorry we're late."

She turned round to a smiling, yet concerned looking Rupert, Arabella on his arm.

"Rupert! Have you only just got here?" asked Harry, at the same time hugging Arabella.

"Afraid so. My car broke down." he replied. "We had to wait for roadside recovery."

"Is it fixed now?"

"Yes, thankfully."

"I expect you're gasping for a drink. Champagne?" said Harry. "And many congratulations on your engagement!"

"Yes to the first and thanks to the last!" he said, laughing and taking two glasses of Bollinger from her.

"Hugo was looking for you earlier." said Harry. "He wondered if your car had let you down."

"Ha! He'll be like the cat that got the cream then." replied Rupert, smiling. "Always said I'd bought the wrong car, damn him!"

"Arabella, Rupert, this is James Dempsey, my fiance." said Harry.

"Dempsey. Why do I know that name?" puzzled Rupert.

"'Cos I'm the cop that you spoke to about your ex girlfriend Billie." said Dempsey, grinning and holding out his hand. "I apologise for grilling you so soon after you lost ya Pop."

"That's alright. You weren't to know." said Rupert, shaking Dempsey's hand. "And you're obviously the same Dempsey you told me, Harriet, about being engaged to when I saw you buying his watch."

"The very same." smiled Harry.

"Well, well." he said. "Did you ever find her?"

"Nope!" replied Dempsey. "'An she's bumped off two more since ya pal, Giles Courtney."

"Are you sure it's the same person?" asked Rupert, Arabella looking very confused, obviously knowing nothing about this Billie everyone was suddenly referring to.

"Yep, no doubt 'bout it." confirmed Dempsey. "Five dead an' she's still on the loose."

"Who _is _this Billie you are talking about!?" asked Arabella, at the end of her patience.

"Sorry Bella darling." said Rupert. "I'll explain later. You must be hungry, shall we get some food, it looks delicious. See you in a bit, Harriet, James."

"Yeah, see ya." replied Dempsey, then turning to Harry as the Korgi's 'Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime' drifted out from the speakers. "Smooch honey?"

"Mmmm." she said, dreamily, putting her arm round his waist and resting her head on his chest. "Come on then."

As they joined the other guests on the dance floor, Harry spotted Hugo and Billie dancing too, entwined in each other, Billie's eyes closed, lost in the haunting melody.

From where Rupert and Arabella were sitting enjoying their food, the dance floor was just a moving mass of people, but he could swear he'd just seen Billie's face.


	16. Chapter 16

**Billie Maddox : The Rolex killer**

**Fifteen.**

At ten o'clock, as the night took hold and the myriad of garden lights illuminated the grounds, Freddy called for quiet and gave a wonderful speech, majoring on how thoroughly proud and delighted he was that Harry had found true love with James and how he had come to regard him as the son he'd never had, as opposed to just his son-in-law.

The waitering staff ensured everyone had a fresh glass of champagne to raise when he proposed a toast to them both.

He'd reduced some of the ladies to tears with his eulogy, but everyone gave him rousing applause, gathering round the happy couple afterwards and offering their heart felt congratulations, once more.

Rupert had explained to Arabella all about his brief relationship with Billie although, to spare her feelings, he didn't actually say he'd fallen in love with her, just that she was someone he'd felt, at the time, he could have had more than just a fleeting relationship with.

For her part, although his words had struck at her heart, she was intelligent enough to know that the relationship was over, and that his sincerity towards her now was real, and not just on a rebound from Billie.

He also told her that he didn't believe she was the suspected serial killer who had been all over the media in the last few weeks.

He still had serious doubts about that, because he simply couldn't correlate the loving, insatiable girl who'd been so soft and giving, with a psychopathic murderer who stabbed, then castrated, her victims!

They weren't the same person! Absolutely not! Couldn't possibly be!

But he had to find out if the girl on Hugo's arm was Billie.

"Shall we go and say hello to Hugo and meet his new girlfriend, Bella?"

"Yes let's." she replied, taking his hand as they walked towards the couple.

Billie saw them coming and there was no escape. She suddenly tensed, her mind beginning to whirl. Hugo was about to ask her what was wrong when Rupert and Arabella walked up behind him.

"Hugo." he said, looking directly at Billie and recognising her immediately.

Hugo swung round.

"Rupert, Arabella, you're here!" he said, shaking his hand, then leaning in to kiss Arabella on her cheek. "What kept you?"

"My car."

"Aha. Ha! Told you not to buy it, didn't I?" said Hugo, punching him playfully on his arm. "Said you should have bought a Porker like mine."

"Yes, yes, so you win, you sod!" grinned Rupert.

He'd decided to put one over on Hugo anyway and dump his Lotus for an Aston Martin, knowing Hugo would love one, but his father wouldn't stretch his budget that far. That'd wipe the smile off his face!

"Meet Charlie." said Hugo, putting his arm round her waist and pulling her close to his side. "These are two of my friends, Rupert and Arabella. They were in 'Barts' the other night but you missed them."

"Charlie." said Rupert. "Pleased to meet you, er Charlie. This is my fiance, Arabella."

'Fiance!' thought Billie, angrily. 'Well! He didn't waste any time, did he!'

But her face remained neutral.

"Hello." she said, wondering why Rupert hadn't immediately caused a scene.

"Hello Charlie." said Arabella. "I hope Hugo is looking after you."

"Perfectly well, thanks." replied Billie, unsmiling.

"Arabella, would you care to dance?" asked Hugo. "So long as Rupert's okay with it that is."

"Of course." he replied, thankful of a chance to speak to Billie alone.

After they'd left he confronted her.

"Look, it's all water under the bridge now I know." he said. "But just explain why you suddenly disappeared out of my life without a word."

"I met Hugo." she lied. "'An he swept me off me feet. Sorry, I knew you were having to deal with yer father an' all that, so I thought it better to just let it go."

"So why _Charlie_? What's so wrong with _Billie_."

"Charlie is my middle name, short for Charlotte." she lied again. "'An I knew Hugo was your mate 'an I didn't wanna hurt yer."

"And your hair and your eyes? he asked. "Why are you wearing coloured eye lenses?"

"I've grown my hair out and changed the colour slightly." she lied, once again. "I only had it short 'cos it was your treat an' all that, an' you so liked it. But Hugo said he liked long blonde haired gels with blue eyes. So I changed 'cos of 'im. I wanna make 'im 'appy."

"Okay, one final question and we'll draw a line under it all." said Rupert. "What happened between you and Giles?"

"Nuffin." she lied, yet again. "Like I said at the time, 'e went to the bog an' I never saw 'im again. Then you came back an' I wanted to go to bed with yer, remember?"

"How could I forget." murmured Rupert.

It all seemed perfectly plausible and believable.

Just as well. Rupert's misplaced trust and naivety had just saved his life!

Aunt Alice had been busy. And successful. She'd managed to find partners for both Joyce and Simone, both of them happy on the dance floor.

"Wonderful party, Freddy darling." she said. "And your speech! Moved me to tears, I can tell you."

"I meant every word, Alice dear." replied Freddy.

"Didn't you ever want Harry to be wed into the aristocracy?" she asked.

"Come on Alice, you know me better than that." he replied. "The minute I laid eyes on her mother, I was in love with her. It didn't matter to me that her father was the local coal merchant. Harry's the image of her. It'll always astonish me as to how James managed to keep his feelings in check for so long. I couldn't have done it."

When Hugo and Arabella rejoined Rupert and Billie, Rupert took his fiance back to the bar, refreshing their champagne glasses and sitting down at a table to enjoy them.

"Bella." he said, taking her hand. "Charlie _is_ Billie. She is the girl I was telling you about, but for me it's all in the past. I love you and nothing's going to change that now."

"I know Rupe." she said, putting her other hand up to his face and stroking his cheek. "I don't have a problem with her being here. But, why has she changed her name?"

"She hasn't. It's her second Christian name." he said, smiling.

"I think you should tell Harry's fiance, Rupe." she said. "Judging by your conversation with him earlier, he seems to think Billie or Charlie or whatever she wants to call herself, is that awful killer!"

"Yes, you're right." he replied. "You stay here, I'll go and find him."

"Don't be long." she said, kissing him.

Rupert found Dempsey out on the lawn at a table with Harry, Freddy and Alice.

"Mr Dempsey." he said, quietly. "Can I have a word in private please."

"Sure." replied Dempsey, standing up. "Can we use your study, Freddy?"

"Yes, of course, be my guests." he replied.

Harry was intrigued.

Rupert followed Dempsey into Freddy's study, Dempsey closing the door behind them.

"So what's up?"

"I've just had a word with Charlie, Mr Dempsey." said Rupert. "She _is _my ex-girlfriend Billie, but I want to tell you that you've got her all wrong. She's not your killer."

"Let me get this straight first off." replied Dempsey. "She is the girl you were with in JuJu's when Giles Courtney was murdered."

"Yes."

"You told me her name was Billie, she had short blonde hair, that used to be long and black, an' green eyes." said Dempsey. "'An this girl here is called Charlie, has long blonde hair an' blue eyes. How do you account for that, Rupert?"

"First of all, her Christian name is Billie, but her second name is Charlie, short for Charlotte." he replied. "Secondly, she has grown her hair longer since I was last with her and her eyes _are_ green, she's wearing coloured eye lenses."

"Why the elaborate change?"

"Mr Dempsey, we had a short, but torrid relationship and fell in love." replied Rupert. "When my father fell ill I had to go his side. Whilst I was away, Billie met Hugo and fell for him. Knowing the state I was in and how I felt about her, she hadn't the heart to tell me. Hugo has always loved girls with long blonde hair and blue eyes, so Billie is simply accommodating him. It's all that simple."

"I see." said Dempsey. "Okay Rupert, thanks for puttin' me straight. Have a nice evenin'. You enjoyin' yourself?"

"Is that it?" replied Rupert, surprised at Dempsey's immediate capitulation.

"Yeah, Rupert, that's it." confirmed Dempsey, smiling. "I got it wrong. It happens, I'll live."

"Oh, okay, that's marvellous, thank you." said Rupert, clearly relieved. "And yes it's a great party. I hope you and Harriet will be very happy together."

"Yeah, thanks. 'Ain't no reason we won't be." replied Dempsey, opening the study door and letting him go first. "See ya later."

He followed Rupert back out to the party, then joined Harry, who was looking questioningly at him.

"Honey." he said, quietly. "Don't make it obvious, but go get Spikings and meet me back in Freddy's study."

He searched around looking for Billie, spotting her up close and personal on the dance floor with Hugo, then made his way back to the study, joined a few minutes later by Harry and Spikings.

"What is it, James?" asked Harry, frowning, eager to know what Rupert wanted and why there was all this cloak and dagger stuff going on now..

"I've just been spun, or should I say, Rupert's just been spun, the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard!" he said. "That broad, Charlie, is our killer!"

Before they could react he repeated, word for word, his conversation with Rupert.

"The thing is." he said. "We either arrest her right here, right now, take her into custody, get a swab of her DNA and match it with the five victims or we draw her out and catch her red handed, so there's no delay and no mistake. We've got the whole SI-10 team out there, remember, so none of us need be in any danger."

"I don't see the need to go to all that bother, Lieutenant." said Spikings. "I think it best we just arrest her - in other words, your first suggestion to the letter."

"The problem with that, sir, is we are dealing with a very disturbed mind." said Harry. "There's no telling how she'd react to being hauled away in front of all the guests with no proof. Because, at the moment, we don't have any proof at all."

"We arrest her under caution then." replied Spikings.

"That's fine for us. We cover our backs." said Dempsey. "But it still means she could scream blue murder an' wreck the party. This night is very special for Harry, Chief, an' I don' want all her family and friends to remember it for a shoutin', bitin', kickin' messed up, badass broad!"

Harry took his hand and squeezed it.

"So how do you propose we set her up?" asked Spikings, eyebrows raised at them both.

"We use my Rolex." said Dempsey.

"What!?"

"Yes sir, I know exactly what James is saying." said Harry. "I've always thought that her motive hasn't been money, but the watches. Something in her past must trigger some inner horror when she sees a Rolex watch, a gold one to be exact. I think she was raped, maybe several times, and the rapist wore a gold Rolex."

"So when she sees one, she goes nuts!" said Dempsey.

"She's a psychopath sir." said Harry. "Her mind is damaged, badly destroyed."

"Assuming I go along with this, somewhat, flawed idea of yours." said Spikings. "How do we do all this whilst not disrupting the party and the guests?"

Dempsey ran through the plan he'd been putting together in his mind during their discussion

"Harry." he said when finished. "You're gonna have to take a back seat in this. Otherwise you'll blow your cover. You just act as if nothin's goin' down, okay honey?"

She nodded, reluctantly amd gripped his hand tighter.

They returned to the party, Spikings quietly going round all the guys, outlining what had transpired and what the plan was. He then signalled Dempsey, confirming everyone was in the loop.

"Shall we dance, princess?" he said, standing up, removing his white tuxedo and undoing his tie, together with the top button of his shirt. He hung the jacket over the back of his chair, then took hold of Harry's hand, leading her onto the dance floor.

They worked their way into the crowd until they were next to Hugo and Billie.

"Come on Hugo, you've not danced with me yet." said Harry. "You don't mind do you, darling?"

"Hell no, honey, knock yourselves out." he replied, reaching out for Billie's hand, deliberately exposing his gold Rolex.

The music dimmed in her brain, the familiar tide of hate and anger sweeping in, the evil images flooding her mind and the need to kill bubbling under the surface, close to boiling over.

She stood very close to Dempsey, looking up into his face and smiling, then putting her mouth close to his ear.

"I love Yanks." she said, pressing her breasts into him and sliding her hand down between their bodies to his groin and gently rubbing it. "I've never gone with a Yank. Shall we go somewhere quieter."

Harry had seen all this and how she didn't grab the little bitch and throttle the life out of her, she never knew.

Dempsey resisted the terrible urge to glance over at her, but instead, looked into Billie's eyes and nodded.

"I'm thirsty. I'm gonna get a drink." said Billy to Hugo.

"Ok beautiful, see you in a mo." he replied, clearly enjoying dancing closely with Harry.

Billie took Dempseys hand as they strolled off the dance floor, following him as they made their way towards the secluded swimming pool area, sufficiently far enough away from the main house not to have attracted any guests.

The pool was lit up with its underwater lamps, the water's surface smooth and shining in turquoise blue. Courtesy lights lit the area up, throwing a sophisticated glow over the entire surroundings.

She put her clutch-bag next to a sunbed, then lay on it, her legs stretched out in front of her, before pulling her dress up over her knees to the top of her thighs, then bending one leg up, so her underwear was just visible.

'Bastard yank deserves to die' she thought, while smiling at Dempsey. 'Already cheatin' on his bride to be, right under her bleedin' nose!'

Dempsey was completely turned off and he knew he had to get aroused to make this work. He shifted her legs to one side, making a space to sit beside her, trying to concentrate.

He closed his eyes and thought of making love to Harry, imagining her lying there, naked, that wonderful, cool, seductive look she always gave him that said, take me!

That was his mistake!

With the speed of a viper striking it's prey, Billie reached into her clutch-bag, gripped her knife and brought it out and up.

At the top of its arc, a split second before she plunged it into Dempsey's neck, there was a soft 'phut'. Opening his eyes in an instant, he saw a hole appear in the side of her head, just behind the ear.

The knife tumbled out of her hand and clattered to the poolside, her eyes open and lifeless.

He looked to where the sound had come from and saw Harry, her stance wide, her arms stretched out in front of her, her revolver, complete with silencer, held in both hands and still pointing at Billie.

Then she ran to him, he standing up and sweeping her off her feet as she reached him and buried her head into his neck.

Spikings and the rest of the guys seemed to emerge from nowhere.

"She wouldn't listen, Lieutenant." said Spikings. "She was adamant she was the one who should take the girl out."

The music, laughter and general hubbub drifted over from the party, all the guests totally ignorant of what had just happened.

Dempsey took her face in his hands and kissed her lips.

"Thanks angel." he said, her arms round his neck as she kissed him back.

"You're welcome." she whispered. "I expect you could do with a drink."

"Yeah, I sure could." he agreed. "But we'd better get Hugo and Rupert together."

"Leave that to Chas and I, Dempsey." said Spikings. "We'll explain without involving Harry's part in it all. It's best you get back to your guests and act as if nothing has happened."

"Ok Chief, thanks." replied Dempsey. "Appreciate that."

They walked back to the bar, picked up two glasses of champagne, then found an empty table and very soon were joined by Joyce, Simone and the respective men Alice had engineered into their orbit.

"This is Roger." said Joyce. "I believe he's your cousin, Harry."

"Yes he is." replied Harry, smiling at him. "We used to get up to all sorts in the fields around here, didn't we Rog."

"Oh yeah?" said Dempsey.

"We weren't even ten, James!" replied Harry, laughing at him.

"He's alway had a filthy mind." said Simone, grinning at him. "This is Basil. He's a banker, 'an he's comin' over to the States to see me, ain't ya Bas."

"I see no reason why not." said Basil, then turning to Harry said. "Great party Harriet."

"Yeah." agreed Simone. "I'm havin' a blast! Come on Bas, on ya feet, I wanna dance again."

"Would you care to dance too, Joyce?" asked Roger.

"I'd love to." she replied.

Spikings and Chas had taken Rupert and Hugo aside and broken the news of Billie's death to them.

Hugo was distraught, Rupert dumbfounded. Arabella remained ignorant of it all.

Both of them silently thanked their guardian angels that they'd never worn their gold Rolex's in her presence, realising, with horror, what would have happened if they had.

Later in the week, now that SI-10 had Billie's fingerprints, Chas traced her background and discovered her sad story, Harry feeling acute sadness and pity for her.

But, as Dempsey pointed out, she'd probably done her a favour by killing her, since a life in a mental institution would have been no life at all.

Sitting alone together at the table after the other four had gone back to the dance floor, Harry asked Dempsey a question.

"Didn't you see the knife!?" .

"My eyes were closed."

"What!?" she gasped. "You mean you sat there next to a killer who you knew was about to try and stab you to death and you had your eyes closed!?

"Yeah."

"In heavens name why!?" said Harry, incredulous.

"Because I thought she was gonna, you know...unzip me." he said, embarrassed. "'An I was, well, you know, I wasn't _ready_. I thought it had to go further before she got really riled up."

"I see." said Harry, beginning to feel sorry for him.

Then a thought struck her and causing her to frown at him.

"So what were you thinking about?"

"You."

"Me!?"

"Yeah, you!" he said. "I was tryin' to get myself ...er."

She suddenly understood and leaned into him.

"Hmmm, so what were you imagining?" she whispered.

"That it was you lyin' there all naked and loved up."

She giggled then, before whispering. "You're just a bit too early then, aren't you darling."

**The End.**


End file.
